Forum

Collection

Griswold at 50

Reflections on the fiftieth anniversary of Griswold v. Connecticut, 381 U.S. 479 (1965). These Essays developed from remarks given at the Association of American Law Schools’s 2015 Annual Meeting in Washington, D.C.

In this Essay, Professor Patrick Weil reexamines the constitutional function of the passport in relation to American citizenship. The State Department recently developed apolicy of passport revocation whereby some Americans are transformed into de facto stateless persons, like Edward Snowden, or are prohibited from living abroad as citizens, like dozens of Yemeni Americans. In the Yemeni Americans’ case, the State Department confuses the legality of passports and naturalization. Revoking Snowden’s passport violates the right for acitizen to possess a passport confirming his or her legal identity—including citizenship—while abroad. This passport function, recognized since 1835, is one of the privileges and immunities of American citizens protected by the Fourteenth Amendment. The Supreme Court has never authorized its suspension by the executive for national security reasons, unlike the other function of a passport—the right to travel. New technologies offer a way to distinguish between these two functions and to make effective a constitutional right.

Symposium

The Early Jurisprudence of Justice Sotomayor

On February 3, 2014, Justice Sonia Sotomayor delivered the James A. Thomas Lecture at Yale Law School. This transcript is adapted (with slight editing) from that lecture, which took the form of a conversation between Justice Sotomayor and Linda Greenhouse. The lecture touched on topics including Justice Sotomayor’s conception of her role and her jurisprudence, her agreements and disagreements with colleagues, and her outreach to the wider public.

In this Essay, Professor Miriam Baer focuses on Justice Sotomayor’s concurrence in United States v. Jones, which has attracted widespread notice due to Justice Sotomayor’s suggestion that the Court reconsider its reasonable expectation of privacy test and the related third-party doctrine. Professor Baer argues that Justice Sotomayor’s opinion exemplifies an attempt to stake out a “middle ground” approach to Fourth Amendment debates over surveillance and technology, one which foregrounds intimacy and common-sense rules as guiding principles.

As part of the symposium to reflect on Justice Sotomayor’s first five years on the Supreme Court, this Essay explores Justice Sotomayor’s contributions to the Court’s criminal law jurisprudence. Professor Rachel Barkow argues that Justice Sotomayor’s prior experience working on criminal law cases as a prosecutor and trial judge have influenced her Supreme Court opinions, which focus on how things actually work in practice, pay close attention to the specific facts of cases, and show sensitivity to the need for checks on government power. These commitments often lead Justice Sotomayor to reject formal rules that would promote predictability at the expense of accurately reflecting the world in which the rules must operate.

What are we to make of Justice Sotomayor’s criminal procedure jurisprudence? In this Essay, Professor I. Bennett Capers attempts to answer that question by offering three readings of her Confrontation Clause decision in Michigan v. Bryant. All three close readings, coupled with details from her memoir, serve as the basis for a “reading” of Justice Sotomayor. In toto, these readings reveal Justice Sotomayor to be precedent-bound, except when she’s not, and to be progressive, but not above using conservative methodologies to get her way. Ultimately, Professor Capers suggests that her approach offers some heartening signals and some possible dangers, but also reasons to hope.

Over the past few decades, the liberal Justices on the Supreme Court have made their most notable extrajudicial communications about the Constitution in academic venues discussing academic issues. This has limited their appeal to broader audiences. In this Essay, Professor David Fontana explores the distinctive path that Justice Sotomayor has pursued during her first five years on the Court. Justice Sotomayor has spoken to academic audiences, as past liberal Justices have. What is most notable about Justice Sotomayor, though, is that she has also appeared in locations and addressed issues that make her and what she discusses of broader appeal; that gives her the potential, as this Essay discusses, to become the “People’s Justice.” Justice Sotomayor thus may make liberal perspectives on the Constitution more known, more liked, and more comprehensible. For those concerned with pursuing a liberal vision of the Constitution, this could be an important development.

During the Senate confirmation hearings for Justice Sonia Sotomayor, concerns were persistently raised about her ability to be impartial. In this Essay, Professor Hernández argues that the Supreme Court’s race-related jurisprudence illuminates Justice Sotomayor’s continued commitment to her stated judicial philosophy of “fidelity to the law.” The record suggests that Justice Sotomayor has not sought to unilaterally impose her own personal racial policy preferences, but has instead worked as a team player to scrupulously apply legal precedents, rules of standing, and congressional intent.

Though courts and scholars emphasize the importance of uniformity in the interpretation and application of federal immigration law, systemic complexity makes its achievement elusive. In the immigration opinions she has drafted to date on the Supreme Court, as well as in her extensive work reviewing asylum adjudications on the Second Circuit, Justice Sotomayor has invoked uniformity as a means of promoting fairness and accountability. But she also has demonstrated how these values can be advanced even in uniformity’s absence, when the system produces conflict and divergent enforcement outcomes. Her opinions highlight how courts can meaningfully, albeit imperfectly, constrain administrative actors through consistent legal interpretation, while still accepting the diversity and discretion built into immigration law itself.

In this Essay, Professors Tyler and Meares highlight the ways in which recent social science research supports the model of jurisprudence articulated by Justice Sotomayor. Her model defines building identification with political and legal institutions as an important goal for the Court. It further suggests that this goal is best achieved when the Court exercises its authority using just procedures. That perspective is consistent with research on the foundations of popular legitimacy demonstrating that perceived procedural justice of the Court most strongly shapes it. Social science findings further reveal the factors shaping popular conceptions of procedural justice.

The Supreme Court’s certiorari process is generally a black box. Occasionally, however, Justices issue statements explaining their dissent from or concurrence in the denial of certiorari. Since she joined the Court, Justice Sotomayor has produced more of these statements than any of her colleagues. In this Essay, Robert Yablon considers what Justice Sotomayor’s certiorari-stage writings reveal about her substantive passions and her vision of the Supreme Court’s institutional responsibilities. Nearly all of Justice Sotomayor’s statements decry instances in which the criminal justice system failed to deliver on its promise of ethical and evenhanded justice, whether due to structural defects or individual transgressions on the part of prosecutors or courts. The author suggests that, were the Court to recalibrate its docket along the lines Justice Sotomayor’s writings advocate, the Court could improve the functioning of the legal system as well as its own institutional standing.

Americans are increasingly polarized on gun rights and gun policy, leading some scholars to ask whether the Second Amendment provides a tool to manage disagreement and promote decentralization. Joseph Blocher’s Firearm Localism takes up this perspective and makes a case for deference to local and municipal gun control laws, including the revision or repeal of statewide firearms preemption statutes. In this Essay, Professor O’Shea argues that neither judicial tradition nor the priorities of contemporary urban gun owners support such deference. Moreover, unlike traditional federalism, Blocher’s localism would undermine the compromise value that was supposed to be decentralization’s strength: the prospect of piecemeal local regulation could threaten the practical exercise of gun rights even in generally pro-gun areas. In short, if one adopts a decentralizing approach to the Second Amendment, then its proper form is a conventional, state-based federalism backed by preemption.

In United States v. Jones, five Supreme Court Justices wrote that government surveillance of one’s public movements for twenty-eight days using a GPS device violated a reasonable expectation of privacy and constituted a Fourth Amendment search. Unfortunately, they didn’t provide a clear and administrable rule that could be applied in other government surveillance cases. In this Essay, Kevin Bankston and Ashkan Soltani draw together threads from the Jones concurrences and existing legal scholarship and combine them with data about the costs of different location tracking techniques to articulate a cost-based conception of the expectation of privacy that both supports and is supported by the concurring opinions in Jones.

Recently, Jed Rubenfeld has argued for a new rape law principle that aims to unravel an intriguing riddle that he has posed about obtaining sex by means of deception. In this Essay, Tom Dougherty argues that Rubenfeld’s self-possession principle itself gives a role to consent that deception can effectively vitiate. In light of this difficulty, Dougherty suggests that the only tenable solution is to take rape-by-deception seriously.

Modern rape law lacks a governing principle. In The Riddle of Rape-by-Deception and the Myth of Sexual Autonomy, Jed Rubenfeld contends that the most obvious candidate—sexual autonomy—is inadequate. I agree, though for vastly different reasons. Rubenfeld advances a conception of rape as a violation of a right to self-possession; this approach raises real problems. I introduce an alternative understanding of rape—rape as a violation of sexual agency. Theories of agency expressly contemplate its exercise under constraints. This framework thus can account for both women’s sexual violation and the value of women’s sexual subjectivity. The turn to agency provides new justification for defining rape as sex without consent.

In this Essay, Professor Patricia J. Falk argues that Professor Jed Rubenfeld’s solution to the “riddle of rape-by-deception” goes too far in eviscerating the body of rape law that courts and legislatures have developed over the past decades. Falk suggests that eliminating nonconsent and foregrounding force is a mistake, and that it is instead critical to think more robustly about what meaningful consent and sexual autonomy might require.

In this Essay, Professor Ramachandran examines Professor Rubenfeld’s concept of self-possession, which Rubenfeld presents as a helpful way to define the harm of rape. She argues that if the concept represents exclusive physical control over one’s body, it is an elusive and undesirable ideal, and as problematic as the sexual autonomy concept that Rubenfeld critiques. Alternately, if it represents the narrower concept of mind-body integration, it makes a principled distinction between rape and battery impossible. The solution is to acknowledge that rape is a sex crime, unique because sex carries distinctive risks and meanings.

In this Essay, Professor Jed Rubenfeld responds to commentary on The Riddle of Rape-by-Deception and the Myth of Sexual Autonomy, published in Volume 122 of the Yale Law Journal. Engaging with four different interlocutors, he suggests that sex-by-deception remains a serious puzzle in rape law, and that self-possession offers an especially promising means of rethinking rape law to address it.

Michigan v. Bay Mills Indian Community, a dispute over a controversial off-reservation Indian casino, is the latest opportunity for the Supreme Court to address the doctrine of tribal sovereign immunity. The Court could hand Michigan a big win by broadly abrogating tribal immunity, and in turn wreak havoc on modern tribal governance. Alternately, the Court could hand Bay Mills a victory by affirming the tribe’s immunity, effectively precluding judicial review of the tribe’s casino project. In this Essay, Professor Matthew L.M. Fletcher argues that neither choice is preferable to a third option that would both advance tribal self-determination and hold tribes accountable to outsiders. The Court could condition tribal immunity in federal or state court on whether the tribe has solved the no-forum problem by providing a tribal forum for the resolution of important disputes.

In this Essay, Professor Matthew Waxman argues that debates about constitutional war powers neglect the critical role of threats of war or force in American foreign policy. The recent Syria case highlights the President’s vast legal power to threaten military force as well as the political constraints imposed by Congress on such threats. Incorporating threats into an understanding of constitutional powers over war and peace upends traditional arguments about presidential flexibility and congressional checks—arguments that have failed to keep pace with changes in American grand strategy.

In this Essay, Professors Starr and Rehavi respond to the U.S. Sentencing Commission’s empirical staff’s criticisms of their recent article, which found, contrary to the Commission’s prior work, no evidence that racial disparity in sentences increased in response to United States v. Booker. As Starr and Rehavi suggest, their differences with the Commission perhaps relate to differing objectives. The Commission staff’s reply expresses a lack of interest in identifying Booker’s causal effects; in contrast, that is Starr and Rehavi’s central objective. In addition, Starr and Rehavi’s approach also accounts for disparities arising throughout the post-arrest justice process, extending beyond the Commission’s narrower focus on disparities in adherence to the Sentencing Guidelines. Beyond these core disagreements, Starr and Rehavi point to several ways in which the reply’s other criticisms inaccurately describe their claims, their methods, and the scope of their study’s sample.

In this Essay, researchers at the United States Sentencing Commission respond to criticisms by Sonja Starr and Marit Rehavi, published in the Yale Law Journal, of the Commission’s past analyses of demographic differences in federal sentences. The researchers explain the legal and practical foundation of their work and why these considerations support the Commission’s methodological approach. The authors also question the representativeness of the data that Starr and Rehavi use in their alternative analyses and the assumptions they make about how the federal criminal justice system operates.

Summary Judgment

Reactions to Windsor

In this Essay, Professor Douglas NeJaime reads United States v. Windsor, which technically rested on equal protection grounds, through the lens of the fundamental right to marry. The Windsor Court absorbed decades of LGBT rights advocacy by situating same-sex couples within a contemporary model of marriage in which marriage’s private welfare function and public recognition dimensions are mutually reinforcing. NeJaime argues that this specific understanding of the right to marry will likely guide the Court’s equal protection, rather than substantive due process, analysis when it one day determines the constitutionality of state marriage prohibitions.

Scholars of popular constitutionalism have persuasively argued that an array of nonjudicial actors—social movements, the federal political branches, state and local political entities—play an important role in shaping constitutional meaning. To date, the accounts of such scholars have largely focused on the ways that constitutional doctrine at the Supreme Court level can be infiltrated and shaped by such popular constitutional influences. In this Essay, Professor Katie Eyer draws on the events following the Obama Administration’s February 2011 Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) announcement—and the history of gay equality litigation that preceded it—to develop a theory of the lower federal courts as participants in the popular constitutionalism dialogue.

Feature

The Future of Section 5

Four perspectives on the future of voting rights law in advance of Shelby County v. Holder

The plaintiffs in Shelby County v. Holder argue that section 5 of the Voting Rights Act offends the “equal dignity” of the states. In this Essay, written in advance of the decision, Professor Joseph Fishkin situates this claim in a larger context. Americans have been fighting since the Civil War and Reconstruction about the structural implications of the events of 1861-1870 for the sovereignty, dignity, and equality of the states—especially the Southern states. The implications of adopting the “equal dignity” of the covered states as a constraint on Congress’s Reconstruction Power are deeply problematic and profound.

Professor Justin Levitt discusses the Shelby County challenge to section 5 of the Voting Rights Act, noting downsides to the Act’s tremendous symbolic importance. In particular, he finds that the case seems to hinge on a simulacrum of the statute—like an editorial cartoonist’s rendering of a political figure, in which particular features take on exaggerated salience. Many elements of the simulacrum have at least the ring of truth. But though the cartoon version of section 5 resembles the original, the exaggerated features distort rather than clarify our understanding of the actual statute’s constitutionality.

Professors Guy-Uriel E. Charles and Luis Fuentes-Rohwer argue that voting rights activists ought to be prepared for a future in which section 5 is not part of the landscape. If the Court strikes down section 5, an emerging ecosystem of private entities and organized interest groups of various stripes—what they call institutional intermediaries—may be willing and able to mimic the elements that made section 5 an effective regulatory device. As voting rights activists plot a post-Shelby County contingency strategy, they should both account for institutional intermediaries and think about the types of changes that could enhance the ability of these groups to better protect voting rights.

The pending challenge to section 5 of the Voting Rights Act insists the statute is no longer necessary. Should the Supreme Court agree, its ruling is likely to reflect the belief that section 5 is not only obsolete but that its requirements do more harm today than the condition it was crafted to address. In this Essay, Professor Ellen D. Katz examines why the Court might liken section 5 to a destructive treatment and why reliance on that analogy in the pending case threatens to leave the underlying condition unaddressed and Congress without the power to address it.

Professors Ruth Mason and Michael Knoll defend their interpretation of the tax-discrimination jurisprudence of the Court of Justice of the European Union, arguing that the nature of their project has been misunderstood by Professors Michael Graetz and Alvin Warren. In Mason and Knoll’s view, competitive neutrality remains the principle most plausibly guiding Court of Justice rulings on tax discrimination, and thereby illuminates the clearest way out of the doctrinal confusion in this field of law.

This Essay examines three experiments that tracked eye fixations as participants reviewed home-loan disclosure forms. The experiments revealed confirmation biases in which participants read to confirm what they were told (e.g., “Your loan is at 4%”) and then failed to look for contradictory evidence such as rate adjustments. Improved forms reduced confirmation biases, but that improvement was undermined when the experimenter engaged participants in distracting conversation. These results demonstrate that improving disclosure forms cannot sufficiently protect consumers. They also suggest that mortgage counseling is necessary for many borrowers.

In multiple-claim lawsuits, courts tend to address each claim separately, thereby disregarding valuable information about the defendant’s misconduct that might be gained by considering claims together. Ignoring that information may lead to the misalignment of liability with wrongdoing. To avoid such distortion, Ariel Porat and Eric Posner have argued in The Yale Law Journal that courts should adjudicate multiple-claim lawsuits in the aggregate. They do not specify the method to implement this novel idea, however, leaving it susceptible to several complications that might undermine its merits. To deal with these potential complications, this Essay introduces the concept of the “median outcome rule.”

**This Essay is part of a Yale Law Journal Online series called "Summary Judgment," featuring short commentaries on recent Supreme Court cases.**

The Mayo Court’s novel test for patent eligibility—whether or not an invention involves “well-understood, routine, conventional activity, previously engaged in by researchers in the field”—focuses on how an invention is accomplished rather than what an invention is. That concern with the method of invention poses several normative, statutory, and administrative difficulties. Taken seriously, the “how” requirement will likely have broad effects across all levels of patent practice.

This Essay replies to Richard Re and Christopher Re’s Voting and Vice. That article, recently published in The Yale Law Journal, demonstrates that the inclusion of the phrase “other crime” in Section 2 of the Fourteenth Amendment was no accident, and the authors contend that widespread support for criminal disenfranchisement in the Reconstruction Congress should enhance the restriction’s status today. This Essay argues that those who wrote disenfranchisement into the U.S. Constitution did so from a context far removed from the views to which Americans adhere today when they talk about voting and political equality. Despite the fact that some Republicans made principled arguments contrasting criminal disenfranchisement with African-American enfranchisement, citizens and legislators who propose to abolish or restrict disenfranchisement neither dishonor nor render incoherent the Reconstruction Amendments.

The Supreme Court recently held, in Miller v. Alabama, that mandatory life without parole for juveniles violates the Cruel and Unusual Punishment Clause of the Eighth Amendment. This Essay argues that, although the case’s result is important, Miller will gain long-term significance not because of what it holds, but because of what it heralds: a fundamental shift in the Court’s Eighth Amendment methodology—specifically, a move away from using “objective indicia” to determine society’s evolving standards. The Essay suggests that the Supreme Court replace its objective indicia analysis with the application of heightened scrutiny to “suspect categories” of punishment, namely, categories for which we have reason to be skeptical of the legislature’s claim that a severe punishment is proportional to the offense and offender.

This transcript is adapted from the inaugural Gruber Distinguished Lecture in Women’s Rights, hosted by the Yale Law School. The Lecture took the form of a dialogue between Justice Ginsburg and Linda Greenhouse at Yale University’s Battell Chapel on October 19, 2012.

Summary disposition is a procedural innovation—added only belatedly to the Supreme Court’s rules—in which the Court dispenses with a case without briefing or oral argument. It presents a puzzle for students of appellate decisionmaking: how can a case be significant enough to merit the Court’s consideration, but not significant enough to warrant the benefits of adversarial procedure? Commentators have asserted that the Roberts Court is more likely than its predecessors to use summary disposition to resolve cases, but this Essay presents the first systematic look at its use of that procedure. The Essay finds that—contrary to general understanding—the Roberts Court has not used summary disposition more than its predecessors did. Rather, it has used the procedure in different and potentially dangerous ways.

In Dissolving Cities, Professor Michelle Wilde Anderson suggests that municipal dissolution could enable counties to serve regionalist goals. This Essay argues that, on balance, municipal dissolution will not trigger the emergence of counties as agents of regional reform. Modern metropolitan regions span city, county, and state borders. As the scale of the region expands, state and local governments, including counties, will increasingly lack the territorial jurisdiction and regulatory capacity to respond to complex metropolitan problems. The Essay concludes by considering the role that the federal government can play, and has historically played, in facilitating regional collaboration at the appropriate scale.

This Essay disputes the legal claims set forth in a recent lawsuit that seeks to invalidate a policy of the Department of Homeland Security. The policy gives protection against deportation to unauthorized immigrants who came to the country as children, and the Department defends it as an exercise of prosecutorial discretion. The plaintiffs claim that no such discretion exists, because the Immigration and Nationality Act, as amended in 1996, requires that virtually all aliens who entered without inspection be detained and placed in removal proceedings whenever encountered by immigration agents. Closely examining the statutory language and drawing on the author’s own extensive involvement as General Counsel of the Immigration and Naturalization Service in the 1996 consideration of legislative amendments and administrative implementation, this Essay makes the case that the plaintiffs’ argument misunderstands both Congress’s intent and consistent agency practice before and after those amendments.

As I was walking around the tonier precincts of Austin, Texas, in the summer of 2012, I noticed that some things seemed out of place. The hot, humid weather was normal, and the recent rainstorms belied the existence of one of the most severe droughts on record.1 People were beginning to talk about the droughts of the 1950s that had produced a rash of reservoir construction.2 But no one was talking about dams this time. Instead, there was a new source of water for those who could afford it, sitting right beneath their feet. In addition to the yard crews attending to the shrubs and St. Augustine grass, there were gangs of roughnecks in work clothes setting up drilling rigs on those manicured urban lawns.

The drought, no doubt, has created a market for privately controlled water. Postcard fliers are slipped under front doors announcing deals: “$6/foot—No Water—No Pay.” The Supreme Court of Texas did its part, too. In the long-awaited case of Edwards Aquifer Authority v. Day, the court decided that “land ownership includes an interest in groundwater in place.”3 Those who can are making the most of that holding by tapping the generally heavily regulated Edwards Aquifer and claiming the water as their own.4

Yonaty v. Mincolla1 may have been the most anachronistic judicial ruling of 2011. In Yonaty, a New York trial court held that false imputations of homosexuality still constituted per se defamation2 under New York law.3 The ruling came only a few days before the New York Times reported that the New York State Senate was one vote shy of enacting marriage equality.4 The legislation, which enjoyed wide popular support,5 was signed into law by Governor Andrew Cuomo on June 24, 2011.6 Despite the New York State Legislature’s efforts to advance full civil equality for LGBT New Yorkers and the public’s backing of LGBT rights in New York, it was nevertheless deemed defamatory as of 2011 to label a heterosexual person gay.

New York’s peculiar treatment of homosexuality in defamation law was not unique.

Each year, the United States District Court for the District of Massachusetts holds an extraordinary panel. All active judges are present to answer questions from the bar. A lawyer’s question one year was particularly provocative: “Why are the federal courts so hostile to discrimination claims?” One judge after another insisted that there was no hostility. All they were doing when they dismissed employment discrimination cases was following the law—nothing more, nothing less.

I disagreed. Federal courts, I believed, were hostile to discrimination cases. Although the judges may have thought they were entirely unbiased, the outcomes of those cases told a different story. The law judges felt “compelled” to apply had become increasingly problematic. Changes in substantive discrimination law since the passage of the Civil Rights Act of 19641 were tantamount to a virtual repeal. This was so not because of Congress; it was because of judges.

A little-known fact about the biggest Supreme Court case of the Term is that it is botched beyond repair. This Essay describes a series of grave defects in Fisher v. University of Texas at Austin, the potentially momentous affirmative-action case, that should prevent the Supreme Court from reaching the merits.

In 2008, the University of Texas at Austin (UT) denied Abigail Fisher admission to its undergraduate class of 2012. She promptly brought suit, alleging that the university’s use of race as a factor in undergraduate admissions violates the Equal Protection Clause, 42 U.S.C. §§ 1981 and 1983, and Title VI of the Civil Rights Act of 1964. She asked the district court to command the university to admit her. She also sought an injunction preventing the university from using race in future admissions decisions and a declaration that doing so would violate federal law. Finally, she requested a refund of her application fees, as well as attorney’s fees and costs. The district court granted summary judgment to the university. The Fifth Circuit affirmed, but not before noting that Fisher’s requests for forward-looking injunctive and declaratory relief were, by then, nonjusticiable. Fisher had enrolled elsewhere and had no intention of reapplying to the university. As a result, the Fifth Circuit said, she lacked standing to make prospective requests.

This year marks the seventy-fifth anniversary of West Coast Hotel Co. v. Parrish,1which for many years has been part of one of the central narratives of twentieth-century American constitutional history. In that narrative, West Coast Hotel represents the Supreme Court’s abandonment of a constitutional jurisprudence featuring aggressive scrutiny of legislation that regulated economic activity or redistributed economic benefits. Prior to West Coast Hotel, successive Court majorities treated state and federal minimum-wage legislation as interfering with the “liberty” of employers and employees to bargain for the terms of employee services. In West Coast Hotel, the Court upheld minimum-wage legislation in the face of this “liberty of contract” argument, and, according to the traditional narrative, the change in the Court’s posture was triggered by the introduction of a plan by the Roosevelt Administration to alter the membership of the Court.2

This Essay seeks to show that the conventional narrative is misleading and distorts the significance of West Coast Hotel.It also seeks to show that West Coast Hotel’s significance comes from its position in a different narrative, one featuring clashing views on the issue of constitutional adaptivity: how the general provisions of the Constitution are adapted to new controversies and whether the meaning of those provisions can be said to change in the process. In that narrative the interpretive postures of “originalism” and “living Constitution” jurisprudence make their appearance, serving to tie West Coast Hotel to contemporary debates about constitutional interpretation.

How should we deliver legal services to low-income clients in need?How should we allocate scarce legal resources among deserving clients?How can we increase access to justice more generally?

As legal services lawyers and clinical law professors who have spent the bulk of our careers in neighborhood-based antipoverty programs, we grapple constantly with these individual, institutional, and systemic challenges. Legal needs in low-income communities far outstrip our ability to meet them, so we develop gatekeeping mechanisms to manage client demand and expectations. Among eligible clients, we face seemingly intractable choices about whom to serve and how much to serve them. While we struggle with individual delivery and programmatic allocation decisions, we also strive to expand access to justice systemically.

James Greiner and Cassandra Pattanayak’s provocative article—reporting the results of a randomized controlled trial evaluating legal assistance to low-income clients at the Harvard Legal Aid Bureau (HLAB)—forces us to confront how little we know about these questions.

**This Essay is part of a Yale Law Journal Online series called "Summary Judgment," featuring short commentaries on recent Supreme Court cases.**

The only surprise about the Supreme Court’s recent decisions in Missouri v. Frye and Lafler v. Cooper is that there were four dissents. The decisions are straightforward recognitions that the defendants in those cases received unquestionably derelict representation, to their considerable prejudice. The decisions do not represent a novelty in the law, but rather continue the longstanding recognition by the courts that “plea bargaining” is an integral part of our criminal justice system—indeed, I have argued at length that it is our criminal justice system—and that minimal competence of defense lawyers in dealing with that process is at least as important as competence in investigation or trial.

**This Essay is part of a Yale Law Journal Online series called "Summary Judgment," featuring short commentaries on recent Supreme Court cases.**

After four decades of neglecting laissez-faire plea bargaining, the Supreme Court got it right. In Missouri v. Frye1 and Lafler v. Cooper,2 the Court recognized that the Sixth Amendment regulates plea bargaining. Thus, the Court held that criminal defendants can challenge deficient advice that causes them to reject favorable plea bargains and receive heavier sentences after trial. Finally, the Court has brought law to the shadowy plea-bargaining bazaar.

**This Essay is part of a Yale Law Journal Online series called "Summary Judgment," featuring short commentaries on recent Supreme Court cases.**

The Supreme Court in Missouri v. Frye1and Lafler v. Cooper2broke new ground by holding for the first time that a defendant’s right to the effective assistance of counsel under the Sixth Amendment can be violated by the loss of a favorable plea deal. Less noted, but also worthy of attention, are Lafler’s implications for federal habeas law. Four Justices protested that the Lafler decision violated the federal habeas statute. At the least, the decision expanded habeas review in unexpected ways.

**This Essay is part of a Yale Law Journal Online series called "Summary Judgment," featuring short commentaries on recent Supreme Court cases.**

In two five-to-four decisions rendered on March 21, 2012—Missouri v. Frye and Lafler v. Cooper—the Supreme Court extended the Sixth Amendment right to effective assistance of counsel to the plea-bargaining process. Viewed in a broader perspective, Frye and Lafler are but the latest reactions to the ever-more-punitive criminal penalties imposed by state and federal legislatures over the past half century.

**This Essay is part of a Yale Law Journal Online series called "Summary Judgment," featuring short commentaries on recent Supreme Court cases.**

The Supreme Court’s five-to-four opinion in Douglas v. Independent Living Center of Southern California, Inc.1 is a significant court-access victory for the private enforcement of the federal Medicaid statute,2 which lacks a private right of action. A year earlier, in Astra USA, Inc. v. Santa Clara County, the Court unanimously dismissed a suit seeking to enforce another statute that similarly lacked a private cause of action.3 Although both the Douglas majority4 and dissent5 cited Astra, they proffered sharply contrasting interpretations of that opinion. While the dissent would have relied on Astra to dismiss Medicaid preemption claims entirely, the majority’s analysis of Astra keeps the courthouse doors open for future litigants to bring such claims.

**This Essay is part of a Yale Law Journal Online series called "Summary Judgment," featuring short commentaries on recent Supreme Court cases.**

Federal agencies play a dominant role in administering federal statutory schemes. At the front lines, they are tasked with interpreting statutes, enacting regulations to implement federal programs, and enforcing federal directives. During the course of adjudication or rulemaking, federal agencies are sometimes called upon to determine whether state law conflicts with federal law. That conflict inquiry is at the heart of preemption disputes before state and federal courts. Private parties wield preemption—typically as a defense—to stave off the effects of a state law allegedly trumped by federal law under the Supremacy Clause. Courts are then called upon to decide the extent to which state law is inconsistent with federal law. Judicial review of agency action under the Administrative Procedure Act (APA) and preemption challenges thus provide parallel proceedings to resolve disputes over whether state and federal law are simpatico or at war.

Douglas v. Independent Living Center of Southern California, Inc.1 provides an opportunity to reflect upon the relationship between these parallel tracks for adjudicating federal-state conflicts. Who is, and who should be, the ultimate arbiter of the existence of federal-state conflicts and how to resolve them—agencies or courts? In this Essay, I use Douglas to explore two questions: first, whether courts can act as “prompters,” pushing federal agencies to discharge their duty to weigh in on potential conflicts between federal and state law; and second, whether a synergistic relationship can exist between courts and agencies in making such conflict determinations.

**This Essay is part of a Yale Law Journal Online series called "Summary Judgment," featuring short commentaries on recent Supreme Court cases.**

Dissents are frequently an unreliable guide for assessing the implications of majority opinions. As Judge Friendly once put it, “Often their predictions partake of Cassandra’s gloom more than of her accuracy.”1 Sometimes, however, the rationale of a dissent may help to explain a majority’s decision not to decide a particular issue, as embodied in the Supreme Court’s February 22, 2012, holding in Douglas v.Independent Living Center of Southern California, Inc.2 Writing for a five-to-four majority, Justice Breyer avoided the question on which the Justices had granted certiorari, i.e., whether the Supremacy Clause provides Medicaid beneficiaries and providers with a cause of action to enjoin California state officials from enforcing a state law allegedly in violation of—and therefore preempted by—the federal Medicaid statute.3 Because intervening administrative action had changed the posture of the case, the majority concluded that the matter should be returned to the Ninth Circuit, which could consider the effect of such developments—if any—as a matter of first impression.

My “missing argument” invokes the structure of the Supreme Court’s decision in Jones v. Alfred H. Mayer Co. to explain congressional authority to enact the civil rights provisions of the Violence Against Women Act. Like the “relics” of slavery, patterns of violence against women trace to decades of state-sponsored discrimination against women, and Congress has the authority under Section 5 of the Fourteenth Amendment to take steps to repair that unhappy legacy.

Increasing numbers of circuit judges are writing dissents from, and concurrences in, orders denying rehearing en banc—colloquially known as dissentals and concurrals. Not everyone is happy about this practice, and some judges have lamented their proliferation. The authors here argue that this has become an entrenched feature of the federal appellate process, and it’s a good thing too.

This Essay argues that the current ethical rules governing U.S.-based law firms are no longer adequate to meet the needs of commercial clients operating in multiple jurisdictions and that what is required is a single and uniform regulatory system for lawyers practicing in the United States. The Essay supports the Proposals submitted to the ABA 20/20 Commission by a group of law firm general counsel that sophisticated clients and their outside counsel should be able to enter binding and enforceable agreements governing such issues as advance conflicts waivers, a narrower definition of current client conflicts, and limitations of liability. The Essay broadly responds to and rejects the critique of the Proposals propounded by Larry Fox.

The attempts by some in the Bar to compromise client loyalty on the altar of law firm profits per partner is both unceasing and depressing. The proposals from many law firm General Counsels to change the Model Rules of Professional Conduct are particularly unflattering to the proponents and undermine this most important fiduciary duty. This Essay describes these calls for change and explains why they should be rejected.

In a recent article appearing in The Yale Law Journal, Ariel Porat argues that the tort of negligence is beset by a range of misalignments that threaten to induce inefficient behavior. In this Response, I argue that Porat is working with an unhelpful notion of misalignment; that tort law has its own internal conception of alignment; and that once we understand the nature of alignment in torts, none of his examples are problematic. If anything, his arguments reveal problems in his understanding of the tort of negligence rather than problems in the tort itself or in its practical implementation. Many of the confusions that beset Porat’s argument are common in the law and economics of tort literature, which has for far too long run fast and loose with a confused understanding of the nature of liability in torts as well as of liability’s relationship to the elements of a tort. Porat’s article is my main focus, but my objections are intended to cut more broadly and deeply.

In Bad News for Professor Koppelman: The Incidental Unconstitutionality of the Individual Mandate, we demonstrated that the individual mandate’s forced participation in commercial transactions cannot be justified under the Necessary and Proper Clause as the Clause was interpreted in McCulloch v. Maryland. Professor Andrew Koppelman’s response, Bad News for Everybody, wrongly conflates that argument with a wide range of interpretative and substantive positions that are not logically entailed by taking seriously the requirement that laws enacted under the Necessary and Proper Clause must be incidental to an enumerated power. His response is thus largely unresponsive to our actual arguments.

Gary Lawson and David Kopel’s Bad News for Professor Koppelman: The Incidental Unconstitutionality of the Individual Mandate argues, on the basis of recent research, that the Necessary and Proper Clause incorporates norms from eighteenth-century agency law, administrative law, and corporate law, and that the health care mandate (and perhaps much else in the U.S. Code, though they are coy about this) violates those norms. The Necessary and Proper Clause, as the authors understand it, tightly limits the scope of implied powers to those that are less “worthy” or “dignified” than the principal powers to which they are subsidiary. These claims are obscure even on their own terms. It is mysterious how we are to know whether the power to impose a penalty for going without health insurance is less “dignified” or “worthy” than the power to regulate interstate commerce. Nor is it clear how an effort by Congress to guarantee that all Americans have adequate health care could violate a fiduciary duty of impartiality. Their logic implies the greatest revolution in federal power in American history. (And this would decidedly be a revolution from above.) There is also the larger methodological question of the role of original meaning in constitutional interpretation: they think that new evidence of original meaning is, without more, a legitimate basis for hamstringing Congress’s power to address pressing national problems. This would be an insane way to run a civilization. It is bad news for everybody.

Benjamin Ewing and Douglas Kysar’s article, Prods and Pleas, discusses one benefit of the fragmented American governance system: the opportunity for institutions to influence the agendas of other, more powerful institutions. The authors illustrate this point with an extensive discussion of the potential for common law nuisance cases to direct congressional attention to the issue of climate change. Their general point is well taken, but they focus too heavily on the common law rather than the more important judicial role in public law, and they mention only in passing the role of states as independent policy centers. Furthermore, besides nudging Congress or the executive branch, public law litigation and state legislative activity can also help fill the gaps created by congressional or presidential policy defaults.

This Essay comments on Benjamin Ewing and Douglas A. Kysar’s article, Prods and Pleas: Limited Government in an Era of Unlimited Harm. Ewing and Kysar suggest that we augment the traditional conception of constitutional “checks and balances” with one of “prods and pleas,” i.e., that different branches of government can provide incentives to induce action from other branches. They use federal climate nuisance litigation as an example of how such prods and pleas can and should operate. In the existing political climate, I am skeptical that governmental branches listen to reasoned arguments from other branches; thus, I argue that “pleas” will be ineffective. Ewing and Kysar’s theory of prods, however, contains an important insight. Branches often respond to political incentives, such that when one branch reaches a decision that undermines the political goals of key actors in other branches (a “prod”), action is possible. In this Age of Dysfunction, when one of the major American political parties seeks to paralyze legislative action, I suggest three areas where judicial prodding might be appropriate: 1) where legislation is blocked by a filibuster; 2) where opposition to legislation rejects science; and 3) where the legislative process produces results that discriminate against diffuse and invisible (and thus powerless) groups. I then use Ewing and Kysar’s example of climate change policy and argue that under current circumstances, judicial prodding is, in fact, appropriate.

**This is the second in a series of responses to Oona Hathaway and Scott J Shapiro's recent article, Outcasting, which appeared in the November issue of YLJ. For Joshua Kleinfeld's response, see here.**

This Essay argues that we have been undergoing a profound sociocultural transformation over the last several centuries, which relates to the emergence of international law. This transformation is every bit as fundamental as those we once went through when transitioning from hunter-gatherer forms of life (which did not yet have legal systems or engage a distinctive sense of legal obligation) to more sedentary forms of agricultural life (with larger population densities, incipient domestic legal institutions, and—ultimately—an emergent distinction between morality and law). The primary mechanism that has been supporting this transformation is “outcasting”—as Oona Hathaway and Scott Shapiro have recently defined the term in their Yale Law Journal article of the same name. This Essay argues that outcasting provides the evolutionary stability conditions for a distinctive and emergent sense of international legal obligation in us. This shared sense of obligation is one of the basic preconditions for a genuine de facto system of international law—a fact that has important normative implications for how to evaluate international law.

In view of the billions of dollars and enormous effort that might otherwise be wasted, the public interest will be best served if the Supreme Court of the United States reaches the merits of the present challenges to the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act (ACA) during its October 2011 Term. Potentially standing in the way, however, is the federal Tax Anti-Injunction Act (TAIA), which bars any “suit for the purpose of restraining the assessment or collection of any tax.” The dispute to date has mostly turned on the fraught and complex question of whether the ACA’s exaction for being uninsured qualifies as a “tax” for purposes of the TAIA. We argue that the Supreme Court need not resolve this issue because the TAIA does not apply for a distinct reason: the present challenges to the ACA do not have “the purpose” of restraining tax assessment or collection. In order for the TAIA not to bar refund suits, the TAIA must be read to bar suits with the immediate purpose of restraining tax assessment or collection. The present challenges do not have such an immediate purpose because the very authority to assess or collect will not exist until long after the litigation is concluded. Among other virtues, this resolution of the TAIA question does not predetermine whether the tax power justifies the minimum coverage provision.

**This is the sur-reply to a series of responses to Jonathan Masur's recent article, Patent Inflation, which appeared in the December issue of YLJ. For Professor Arti Rai's response, see here. For Lisa Ouellette's response, see here.**

In Patent Inflation, I argued that the asymmetry in Federal Circuit review of Patent and Trademark Office (PTO) decisions would lead over time to inflation in the boundaries defining what inventions are patentable. In short essays, Professor Arti Rai and Lisa Ouellette have offered valuable commentary, including both qualitative (Rai) and quantitative (Ouellette) evidence bearing on the question of inflation. In this brief response, I explain how their evidence is consistent with—indeed, bolsters—the theory presented in Patent Inflation. Direct Federal Circuit reversals of PTO decisions make up only a small portion of that court’s caseload. But those cases have exerted outsized influence on the development of the law, particularly across a number of the most significant patent doctrines. This is just as Patent Inflation would predict.

**This is the second in a series of responses to Jonathan Masur's recent article, Patent Inflation, which appeared in the December issue of YLJ. For Professor Arti Rai's response, see here. For Professor Masur's sur-reply, see here.**Professor Jonathan Masur’s recent article, Patent Inflation, argues that the expansion in the boundaries of patentability that has occurred since the creation of the Court of Appeals for the Federal Circuit is caused by cases in which the court reverses patent rejections by the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office (PTO). This Essay examines every Federal Circuit patentability ruling over five different years and shows that reversals of PTO rejections are few in number and doctrinally insignificant. Instead, patentability rulings in infringement suits—which should have no net effect under Masur’s model—likely play an important role in patent inflation because of the presumption of patent validity and the higher stakes in patent litigation. Masur also underestimates the role of the Supreme Court in redrawing patentability boundaries. Although Masur’s simple model is elegant, this Essay argues that it cannot accurately capture the complex phenomenon of patent inflation.

**This is the first in a series of responses to Jonathan Masur's recent article, Patent Inflation, which appeared in the December issue of YLJ. For Lisa Ouellette's response, see here. For Professor Masur's sur-reply, see here.**

Jonathan Masur’s argument regarding “Patent Inflation” rests on the assumption that PTO behavior is determined almost entirely by a desire to avoid reversal of its patent denials by the Federal Circuit. Although the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office (PTO) is certainly a weak agency over which the Federal Circuit has considerable power, Masur overestimates the extent to which high-level PTO administrators are concerned about Federal Circuit reversals and underestimates institutional influences that are likely to operate in a deflationary direction. The PTO is influenced not only by the Federal Circuit and other inflationary forces, but also by executive branch actors, industry players, and workload concerns that push in a deflationary direction.

In Prods and Pleas, Benjamin Ewing and Douglas Kysar claim that the American legal system needs to adopt novel solutions to deal with the question of global warming. In this Essay, I start from the premise that some form of legal response to global warming is appropriate, but then conclude that the traditional allocation of responsibility between private rights of action (for large concentrated harms) and direct government administrative action (for diffuse harms) remains the proper approach. In light of the worldwide nature of the problem, the only domestic responses to this issue should be through coordinated action at the federal level. Accordingly, I agree with the Supreme Court’s decision in American Electric Power Co. v. Connecticut and conclude further that the comprehensive powers lodged in the Environmental Protection Agency should not only block private rights of action under federal law, but under state law as well.

**This is the first in a series of responses to Oona Hathaway and Scott J Shapiro's recent article, Outcasting, which appeared in the November issue of YLJ.**

International law, many think, is not really law at all because it is not enforced. That claim is a central focus of Oona Hathaway and Scott Shapiro's new article,Outcasting: Enforcement in Domestic and International Law. This Essay asks two philosophical questions about that claim. What do we mean by enforcement when we channel the intuition that enforcement is part of law’s nature? And what is the place of enforcement in our concept of law? Enforcement, the Essay argues, is the activity by which a legally constituted power is applied to make the law’s dictates actual; it is a matter of law’s efficacy. Enforcement so conceived is constitutive of law’s identity as law, but not strictly necessary to it because law is not the kind of thing that has strictly necessary features. Nor is enforcement sufficient to make a norm a law: the skepticism toward international law is not based on enforcement alone.

In Bad News for Mail Robbers: The Obvious Constitutionality of Health Care Reform, Professor Andrew Koppelman argues that the individual mandate in the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act is constitutionally authorized by the Necessary and Proper Clause. This view is fundamentally wrong. The Necessary and Proper Clause is based on eighteenth-century agency law, including the fundamental agency doctrine of principals and incidents. Accordingly, the Clause only allows Congress to exercise powers that are incident to—meaning subordinate to or less “worthy” than—its principal enumerated powers. The power to compel private persons to engage in commercial transactions with other private persons is not an incidental power. Thus, the mandate is not authorized by the Necessary and Proper Clause, whether or not such a power is “necessary and proper for carrying into Execution” other powers. In addition, eighteenth-century public law carried administrative law principles—including the fiduciary norms at the heart of agency law—into delegations of power to political actors. One of the most basic of these fiduciary norms is the obligation to treat multiple principals equally. That equal treatment requirement is violated by the individual mandate, which compels transactions with a favored oligopoly of insurance companies. In short, the mandate is not an exercise of incidental power within the scope of the Necessary and Proper Clause, nor is the mandate “proper.”

This Essay takes the Supreme Court’s recent decision in Connick v. Thompson as a point of departure for examining the efficacy of professional responsibility measures in combating prosecutorial misconduct. John Thompson, the plaintiff in Connick, spent fourteen years on death row because prosecutors concealed exculpatory blood evidence from his defense attorneys. In rejecting Thompson’s attempt to hold the New Orleans District Attorney’s Office civilly liable for failing to train its prosecutors in proper discovery procedures, the Connick Court substantially narrowed one of the few remaining avenues for deterring prosecutorial misconduct. Implicit in the Court’s reasoning was a belief that district attorneys' offices should be entitled to reasonably rely on professional responsibility measures to prevent prosecutorial misconduct. This Essay subjects that premise to a searching critique by surveying all fifty states’ lawyer disciplinary practices. Our study demonstrates that professional responsibility measures as they are currently composed do a poor job of policing prosecutorial misconduct. However, we also take seriously the Supreme Court’s insistence that those measures should function as the primary means of deterring misconduct. Accordingly, in addition to noting the deficiencies of professional responsibility measures, we offer a series of recommendations for enhancing their effectiveness.

Second, this Essay illustrates the similarity of Justices and Commissioners through nine paired case studies where Justices and Commissioners have, in their respective capacities, (1) provided guidance, (2) refrained from error correction, (3) undertaken rulemaking, (4) exercised countermajoritarian powers, (5) provided explanations for their decisions, (6) protected the fundamental values of their respective institutions, (7) employed special masters for fact-specific inquiries, (8) decided on statutes of limitations, and (9) exercised finality. This Essay concludes that Chief Justice Roberts had the right sport but the wrong position: Justices are not umpires; they are Commissioners.

**In May 2011, The Yale Law Journal Online introduced a new series called "Summary Judgment," featuring short commentaries on recent Supreme Court cases. This Essay is part of the second symposium in that series.**

In American Electric Power Co. v. Connecticut (AEP), the Supreme Court explicitly left ajar the door to litigation under state (as opposed to federal) common law for greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions. Some plaintiffs’ lawyers are also arguing that the decision leaves room for seeking money damages (rather than injunctive relief) even in a federal common law case.

For purposes of this Essay, let’s imagine a world in which the courthouse doors are swung open to common law claims for damages for GHG emissions, and the courts have rejected all defenses based on displacement, preemption, political question, and standing. In other words, the plaintiffs finally are able to litigate the merits. What would that litigation look like?

Because I have spent thirty years as a practicing environmental litigator (sometimes acting for plaintiffs, sometimes for defendants) prior to entering academia, my head swims with the challenges such a case would pose. Most of the voluminous commentary on the common law GHG cases looks at the threshold issues; let’s now peer across the threshold and see what’s on the other side. What we’ll find is an extraordinary number of open questions that would face the parties and the courts; in this Essay I attempt to enumerate them, without undertaking the daunting task of answering them.

**In May 2011, The Yale Law Journal Online introduced a new series called "Summary Judgment," featuring short commentaries on recent Supreme Court cases. This Essay is part of the second symposium in that series.**

Whether and how to apply the political question doctrine were among the issues for which the Supreme Court granted certiorari in American Electric Power Co. v. Connecticut (AEP). This doctrine holds that federal courts should not resolve certain kinds of claims better left to other branches. Here, the question was whether the doctrine barred review of plaintiffs’ federal common law claims for climate change. The Court, however, declined to engage the issue. Nonetheless, this Essay argues that the doctrine is still very relevant in the context of common law causes of action for climate change, and does so in three parts. Part I briefly explains the doctrine’s historical backdrop, observing the limited extent to which it has been applied. Part II explains the role that the doctrine played in AEP and that the Court declined to address the issue directly. Part III discusses the implications that AEP may have on the doctrine going forward.

**In May 2011, The Yale Law Journal Online introduced a new series called "Summary Judgment," featuring short commentaries on recent Supreme Court cases. This Essay is part of the second symposium in that series.**

This disposition may leave the reasoning of the Justices mysterious, but AEP is a powerful illustration of the deep flaws in current doctrine: first, its incoherent application; second, its injection of merits issues into a supposedly jurisdictional determination; third, its manipulability in the hands of creative, well-resourced lawyers; and fourth, its resulting failure to advance any intelligible vision of the proper role of the federal judiciary.

**In May 2011, The Yale Law Journal Online introduced a new series called "Summary Judgment," featuring short commentaries on recent Supreme Court cases. This Essay is part of the second symposium in that series.**

The Supreme Court’s decision in American Electric Power Co. v. Connecticut (AEP) closes another door for those most vulnerable to climate change. The corrective justice goals of tort law and the associated possibilities for redress—particularly vital to the most vulnerable—remain elusive due to the Court’s restricted view of tort law’s relevance to climate change. This Essay analyzes these climate justice implications of AEP.

The Essay argues that the common law nuisance claims rejected by the Court in AEP provide an important mechanism for the climate vulnerable to achieve corrective justice. Corrective justice is one of the most important goals of tort law because of its focus on the relationship between the tortfeasor and victim. While there are myriad interpretations of corrective justice theory and its application, this approach at its core counsels simply that individuals who are responsible for the wrongful losses of others have a duty to repair those losses. Further, rectification of harms suffered can help restore the moral balance upset by the externalized costs that climate change inflicts on individuals and communities. The corollary, therefore, is that tort law should provide a venue and possible damages remedy for CJ plaintiffs whose claims—namely, injuries to life and property—demand compensation from the worst offenders.

**In May 2011, The Yale Law Journal Online introduced a new series called "Summary Judgment," featuring short commentaries on recent Supreme Court cases. This Essay is part of the second symposium in that series.**

**In May 2011, The Yale Law Journal Online introduced a new series called "Summary Judgment," featuring short commentaries on recent Supreme Court cases. This Essay is part of the second symposium in that series.**

In American Electric Power Co. v. Connecticut (AEP), the Supreme Court held that “the Clean Air Act and the EPA actions it authorizes displace any federal common law right to seek abatement of carbon-dioxide emissions from fossil-fuel fired power plants.” This set of commentaries explores several of the interesting and controversial issues that the opinion addresses (or largely sidesteps). These essays analyze the complexities of the context in which the core displacement holding takes place, the opinion’s environmental justice implications, its interaction with current standing doctrine, the political question doctrine issues briefed in the case but not addressed in detail by the decision, and common law nuisance actions as an approach to addressing climate change. My commentary situates these essays in relation to one another and adds to this dialogue by considering the decision’s implications for the future of climate change litigation in the United States.

February 16, 2011 was a day of reckoning for humankind. A new computer, appropriately dubbed “Watson,” beat the world’s best Jeopardy! players at their own game. At first blush this may not seem so surprising: after all, computers are notoriously better than humans at “recalling” factual knowledge. But Jeopardy! is a game show known for the nuance of its clues, which often contain puns, ambiguities, and other curiosities. Watson’s ability to understand and quickly respond to Jeopardy! questions thus reveals that computers have made great strides in emulating how humans think.

This Essay considers whether judges might share the job of statutory interpretation with computers like Watson. First, it briefly lays out how new textualists approach statutory interpretation. Second, it describes how Watson’s aptitudes lend themselves to textualist-style statutory interpretation. Finally, the Essay pulls the threads together, discussing how Watson might both aid textualist interpretation and perhaps perform such interpretation on his own.

In their recent article in TheYale Law Journal, Professors Richard R.W. Brooks and Alexander Stremitzer make the case for a liberal allowance of rescission and restitution—an “off the contract” remedy that allows a party to a contract to rescind following breach by a counterparty and to receive back the contract price. This Essay argues that Brooks and Stremitzer’s recommendations are based on an incomplete analysis of the effects of rescission rights on the marketplace and are ultimately misplaced.

This Essay challenges the second of these claims. Once we broaden Brooks and Stremitzer’s analysis of a single buyer-seller relationship to include multiple buyers, the effect of liberal rescission rights on price might be the opposite of what they predict for two principal reasons. First, promisors will not be incentivized to reduce their prices because lower prices do not lead to a drop in the number of counterparties that opt for rescission. This is because a drop in prices allows low-value buyers to enter the market—an effect Brooks and Stremitzer critically neglect. These buyers have a relatively high probability of opting for rescission, and their entrance can therefore increase the overall number of returns that a seller faces. Second, liberal rescission rights, because they serve a valuable insurance function for the counterparty and are costly to the seller, might actually lead to higher prices. I do not contend that liberal rescission rights will never induce sellers to lower their prices but rather that, under many circumstances, they will either have no effect on sellers’ incentives or may actually induce sellers to raise their prices. Without any evidence as to the likelihood of the differing effects on price, Brooks and Stremitzer cannot enlist the price effect of rescission as an argument in favor of a regime that provides for a more liberal allowance of rescission rights.

But I want to argue here that the stakes in Wisconsin have less to do with the bona fides of budget crises and benefits packages than with something a great deal more fundamental: the struggle between democratic governance and authoritarian control in the American workplace. I don’t wish to overstate the parallel to events in the Middle East, where the courage of the men and women who have joined the unprecedented wave of antigovernment protests is nearly beyond measure. But unions give American workers something that markets and employers seldom afford them and that contemporary American law does not otherwise provide: a genuine voice in important decisions about their work lives and the power to make that voice heard. The attack on public-sector unions thus threatens to exacerbate what is already a breathtaking “democracy deficit” in U.S. labor relations and—should the effort gain traction and succeed—to cut American workers altogether out of a role in workplace governance. Indeed, now that private-sector union representation in the United States has reached a post-World War II low of under 8%, the mantra of Republican state officials that government should be “run like a business” may well portend a clean and decidedly non-union sweep for the public-sector workforce as well.

The constitutional objections are silly. However, because constitutional law is abstract and technical and because almost no one reads Supreme Court opinions, the conservative majority on the Court may feel emboldened to adopt these silly objections in order to crush the most important progressive legislation in decades. One lesson of Bush v. Gore, which did no harm at all to the Court’s prestige in the eyes of the public, is that if there are any limits to the Justices’ power, those limits are political: absent a likelihood of public outrage, they can do anything they want. So the fate of health care reform may depend on the constitutional issues being understood at least well enough for shame to have some effect on the Court.

In light of the current state of CIL, it is worth thinking creatively about how to improve this body of international law. One difference between the way that many treaties are structured and the way that CIL is structured concerns withdrawal rights. The conventional wisdom among international law scholars is that, once a rule of CIL becomes established, no nation has the legal right to withdraw from the rule. Instead, if a nation wants to change a rule of CIL, either it must convince other nations to enter into a treaty overriding the rule, or it must violate the rule and hope that other nations will acquiesce to the violation. This regime applies even to nations that enter the international system after a CIL rule is formed. In a recent article, Withdrawing from International Custom,we referred to this conventional wisdom as the “Mandatory View” of CIL.

William Eskridge, Jr., and John Ferejohn’s magnum opus on “small ‘c’” constitutionalism and the republic of statutes is an unusually wide-ranging work of legal and political analysis, one that defies comprehensive summary. In this Essay, we bore in on a central element of their thesis: the idea of entrenchment. In A Republic of Statutes, legal entrenchment is used to tether the authors’ normative theory of American constitutionalism to a positive political theory of law. Entrenchment purports to explain how superstatutes arise from successful social movements; further, it explains how these statutes, and the administrative apparatus built to implement the policies encoded in these statutes, become durable features of our American constitutional structure. Insofar as entrenchment does the heavy lifting in A Republic of Statutes, it is imperative that we have a clear picture of what entrenchment means. Such meaning, however, will be elusive.

There is a widespread intuition that the Constitution provides much less than a full blueprint of the structure and powers of the contemporary federal government. Even if we regard judicial doctrine as part of the “Large ‘C’” Constitution, the intuition still seems valid. In particular, it is hard to account for the extraordinary increase in presidential power that Arthur Schlesinger has described as the “imperial presidency,” and which is critiqued in Bruce Ackerman’s most recent work, simply in terms of formal amendments and judicial precedents. A reasonable starting point for inquiry is that some part of the path of constitutional change lies outside the ordinary legal process. This creates the theoretical challenge of how to understand the nature of what William Eskridge and John Ferejohn call the “small ‘c’” constitution in their monumental new work, A Republic of Statutes.

We can draw a rough distinction between standard and unconventional approaches to the study of constitutional change outside the formal amendment process enshrined in Article V. A standard approach is one that emphasizes the inescapable reality of the “living Constitution” and the common law role of the judiciary in adapting the Constitution to changing circumstances over time. Such a theory might also nod to “the Constitution outside the courts”—meaning how the executive and legislative branches have contributed to the development of constitutional meaning.

The United States has two health care constitutions, and the old is the enemy of the new. The recently enacted Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act (PPACA) is the latest step in the federal government’s incremental efforts over the past half century to construct and entrench a modern constitution of health security similar to those enjoyed by citizens in most other advanced democracies. At present, this constitution of health security is wobbly and uncertain, embodied in a pastiche of several statutes of various vintages, heavily reliant on private employers as the primary insurers for most Americans and only halfheartedly embraced by the American public. Yet for all of this present uncertainty and complexity, the PPACA stands as a potentially transformative policy achievement that may one day come to be regarded, as Social Security and Medicare are now, as a central component of the “constitution of statutes” that is the subject of William Eskridge and John Ferejohn’s splendid new book, A Republic of Statutes: The New American Constitution.

The similarity of the Obama and Bush plans for immigration reform, and their similar struggles, suggest a question from the point of view of constitutional law—in particular, from the point of view of William Eskridge, Jr., and John Ferejohn’s recent work on the centrality of statutes in American law and American constitutionalism. They argue that because the Constitution says little about the everyday business of running a country, America is a “republic of statutes.” Instead of “Large ‘C’” constitutionalism playing a central role, there is “small ‘c’” constitutionalism derived from specific “superstatutes,” or more general “superstatutory principles,” that are entrenched in American lawmaking.

Under the prevailing approach to withdrawal from custom, which the authors denominate the “Mandatory View,” states may exempt themselves from a rule of customary international law by persistently objecting to the rule while it is in the process of forming. Once the rule has come into being, however, states that have not persistently objected are bound until the rule dissolves through a multilateral process. Bradley and Gulati propose to replace the Mandatory View with the “Default View,” which would recognize a limited right of states to withdraw unilaterally from some rules of customary international law.

In Stop the Beach Renourishment, Inc. v. Florida Department of Environmental Protection, a four-Justice plurality endorsed a novel theory that would make the Takings Clause applicable to a wide collection of state court interpretations of state property law. Writing for the plurality, Justice Scalia declared that a state court’s opinion finding that an “established” property right “no longer exists” may amount to an unconstitutional taking. The opinion draws on two fundamental themes of Justice Scalia’s property jurisprudence: the first is the notion of property as a prepolitical, immutable partition between individual interests and permissible government action; the second is a general distrust of the state courts that are tasked with declaring these individual property rights. The joining of these themes in the Stop the Beach Renourishment plurality opinion sits in stark contrast to the concurring opinions of Justices Kennedy and Breyer. These concurrences—Justice Kennedy’s rejection of the plurality’s approach in light of the adequacy of due process protections and Justice Breyer’s rejection of the plurality’s approach in light of concerns with unnecessary federal judicial interference in traditionally state matters—reflect a conception of property that finds some state court alterations of individual interests appropriate when changes in economic circumstances and social attitudes demand it.

A statute pointedly described as an “opaque, baroque maze of interlocking cross-references” is unlikely to represent an intelligent response to a fundamental failing in one of the most complicated and divisive areas of law. Yet, the Class Action Fairness Act (CAFA), ostensibly enacted by Congress to remedy purported abuses in class action litigation, created precisely such an uncertain rubric. This Essay considers and attempts to resolve CAFA’s profound and previously unaddressed shortcomings that arise out of its jurisdictional provisions. Specifically, did Congress’s attempt to remedy defects caused by state court adjudication of class actions undermine the federalism and policy interests advanced by such review?

These shortcomings make CAFA perpetually ripe for misinterpretation and seemingly unintended application and were recently highlighted by the United States Court of Appeals for the Eleventh Circuit in Cappuccitti v. DirecTV, Inc. Relying on a similar decision by the Ninth Circuit, the Eleventh Circuit vacated a district court’s dismissal on jurisdictional grounds, finding that the named plaintiff failed to satisfy the $75,000 requirement of 28 U.S.C. § 1332(a). Rather than limiting the scope of its holding to cases originally filed in federal court, the court held this provision germane to all actions removed under CAFA. While the Eleventh Circuit subsequently reconsidered and vacated its prior ruling, the confusion of its initial opinion arose directly out of its interpretation of CAFA’s flawed jurisdictional structure.

In their recent article in The Yale Law Journal, Professors Curtis Bradley and Mitu Gulati argue for a sweeping reformulation of international law relating to the legal force of customary norms. The model that they propose (the “Default View”) has the highly counterintuitive feature that states would be entitled to unilaterally opt out of customary norms with which they disagree, even long after the norm in question became an accepted part of international customary law and even if they had approved of the norm originally.

Among the grounds that they provide for this result are an analogy between customary and treaty law and the model’s supposed functional advantages. Bradley and Gulati’s analogy to treaties, however, involves a serious distortion of the existing law of international agreements, which does not in fact grant a right of unilateral withdrawal. Their claim about functional advantages is also problematic: it overlooks the already adequate flexibility of the current approach (which they call the “Mandatory View”). Finally, the authors acknowledge that a state exercising the proposed right to revoke would elicit international disapproval—an apparent recognition of the costs of their model to the international community. All in all, the case for the “Default View” has not been made.

The Supreme Court’s forthcoming decision in Snyder v. Phelps will address the clash between two fundamental and longstanding American values: freedom of speech and “the right to be let alone.” Freedom of speech is a cherished and distinguishing characteristic of American democracy, while the right to be left alone has been acclaimed as “the most comprehensive of rights and the right most valued by civilized men.” The facts of Snyder v. Phelps present a direct conflict between these two rights, the reconciliation of which is a complicated and divisive jurisprudential challenge.

The Phelpses’ family-operated Westboro Baptist Church exploited former marine Matthew A. Snyder’s untimely death in Iraq to expound its “religious” belief that “God hates fags” and kills American soldiers to punish the United States for tolerating homosexuality. Its messages, which mixed political and religious viewpoints with personal attacks on the Snyders, produced a jury verdict in the amount of $10.9 million in favor of Matthew’s father for invasion of privacy and intentional infliction of emotional distress. The Fourth Circuit reversed on First Amendment grounds, finding the political speech and personal attacks categorically exempt from tort liability. The Supreme Court granted certiorari.

The Supreme Court’s decision in Snyder v. Phelps will have a profound influence on our social order. In essence, the Court will determine what kind of society we will live in, where the boundaries are for intentionally harmful and malicious speech, and how Americans will attain redress for personal injuries inflicted by speech. The Court’s decision will send a message to both perpetrators and victims of extreme and injurious hate speech, bullying, harassment, and other speech-based tortious behavior, which will either encourage or discourage intentionally harmful speech. In short, the Court’s decision in Snyder v. Phelps is of monumental social importance.

Professors Curtis Bradley and Mitu Gulati have written a rich and interesting paper with a bold conclusion supported by historical and normative arguments. I find myself unpersuaded by either set of arguments. Most of my comments concern their reading of the historical sources, which they use to show both that the Default View was indeed the traditional doctrine of customary international law (CIL) and that the Mandatory View carries a disagreeable colonialist legacy. I criticize the former argument in Part I and the latter in Part II. But I also reject their claim that the Mandatory View makes CIL too “sticky” and hard to change. Taking the law of war as the principal example, I suggest in Part III that stickiness may be a virtue, because the alternative to supposedly outmoded customary law is likely to be no law rather than better law.

Parents often create a family limited partnership (FLP) or similar entity to provide a vehicle for cohesive management of assets, secure some measure of creditor protection, or create a common pool for investment in marketable securities. FLPs generally encumber their members’ interests with restrictions for various reasons. The Internal Revenue Service in turn attacks FLP restrictions because encumbrances reduce estate and gift tax value when FLP interests transfer. In two cases in the spring of 2010, the IRS successfully pressed attacks that tilt the battlefield against the taxpayer. Nevertheless, rules remain for defeating IRS attacks. These rules fall within two overarching taxpayer imperatives. First, the taxpayer must seek something other than tax savings in order to achieve tax savings. Hence, “context matters.” Second, the taxpayer must act with respect to the FLP in all respects as she would with unrelated parties. Hence, “do unto yours as you would do unto others.”

To lawyers, corruption is mainly a problem of law enforcement. Bribes and other types of corrupt dealings are hard to observe and to prosecute if both sides gain from the transaction. Even clear losers may risk retaliation if they report a transaction. To lawyer-economists, bribery is just a special case of the economic analysis of criminal behavior more generally.

This focus on law enforcement begs some interesting questions. Some contest the very concept of corruption, requiring an analysis of deep questions defining the relationship between state and society. I address these issues in Parts I and II by confronting the seemingly disparate views of free-market libertarians and of ethnographers who study corruption as an aspect of the relations between state and society. Although their views are fundamentally different in many respects, they are both skeptical of the modern state and frequently see “corruption” as a superior alternative to abiding by formal law. In Part III, I explore how free-marketeers and cultural ethnographers confront what is called “grand corruption”—involving political leaders and multinational firms. Here, we see a marked reversal. Corporate interests, which in other circumstances emphasize the value of the free market, here characteristically invoke local cultural practices as an excuse for making payoffs. In contrast, it is the scholars of local cultural practices who invoke the predominance of economic incentives—that is, the greed and the profit motive of multinational firms—to condemn grand corruption. After confronting these curious convergences and conceptual reversals, Part IV develops my own “democratic legitimacy” approach. It stresses the way pervasive corruption undermines the competence, fairness, and democratic legitimacy of the modern state. Corruption substitutes the criterion of willingness-to-pay for criteria based on desert, need, efficiency, and other values. This approach leads to a suggested reform agenda consistent with the goal of strengthening state capacity and accountability.

On June 24, 2010, the Washington Supreme Court issued its opinion in McCurry v. Chevy Chase Bank, declining to follow nonmandatory but highly persuasive federal pleading standards. In doing so, Washington State became the first state supreme court post-Iqbal to abandon the ideal of national procedural uniformity over the contentious issue of plausibility pleading. Other states will have to decide the same issue in the months and years to come. This Essay explains the history and stakes of this development.

McCurry provides an opportunity to pause and reconsider the relationship between state and federal pleading regimes and the value of national procedural uniformity compared to local variation. It allows us to do so not based on theory alone but grounded in a record that reveals which rationales actually mattered to a state supreme court.

Things change. Fifteen years after defending “the essential rightfulness—the legitimacy and the desirability—of exploring a Supreme Court nominee’s set of constitutional views and commitments,” Kagan was the nominee and found herself on the receiving end of her own taunts. Would she challenge the central conceits of originalism? Thumb her nose at Justice Scalia? Provide a progressive view?

She would not. And honestly, who can blame her, especially after President Obama’s experience, just a year before? He had challenged conventional wisdom when he called empathy “an essential ingredient for arriving a[t] just decisions and outcomes” and thus the preeminent quality he would look for in his Supreme Court nominees. It was not the first time the President had used the word “empathy” to describe his views on constitutional interpretation and the complicated work of a judge. It may, however, have been the last.

Testifying before the Senate Judiciary Committee regarding her confirmation as a Supreme Court Justice, Solicitor General Elena Kagan summed up in a cool and even-handed manner the arguments she and her opponents in the Citizens United v. FEC case had made to the Supreme Court. The “strongest argument of the government,” she said, “was the very substantial record that Congress put together” demonstrating that money spent by corporations and unions “could have substantial corrupting effect on the political process.”

On the other side of the case, she recalled, there were “certainly strong arguments,” in particular “that political speech is the highest form of speech under the First Amendment entitled to the greatest protection and that the courts should be wary of Congress regulating in this area in such a way as to protect incumbents to help themselves.” Those, she repeated, “are strong arguments.”

That summary, neatly encapsulating two rounds of oral arguments, briefs of the parties, fifty-four briefs amicus curiae, and hundreds of pages of judicial opinions in the ruling, bears little resemblance to most of the far more overheated and often overwrought descriptions of the case offered to the public.

In the forty years since the landmark decision in Tinker v. Des Moines Independent Community School District, the Supreme Court has narrowed theexpansive vision of student-protected speech espoused in that case. Tinker held that school officials cannot restrict a student’s expression of opinion unless it will contribute to a disturbance in the educational environment. Since then, Tinker has governed situations where a school district implements content- or viewpoint-based regulations of student expression. For example, Tinker has beenapplied where a school punished students who wore “scab” buttons to protest replacement teachers during a school strike and where school administrators implemented a policy against inappropriate public displays of affection in part because “such conduct . . . sends the wrong message.”

There remains a long-standing fault line under the Tinker doctrine that the Court has acknowledged but has yet to repair: is Tinker’s standard limited to only content- and viewpoint-based regulations of student speech, or does it also apply to content-neutral restrictions? Content-neutral regulations are speech limitations “justified without reference to the content of the regulated speech,” such as a school uniform policy enacted for purposes unrelated to restricting student expression through clothing or a leaflet policy designed to “decrease distractions” at school by controlling when students may distribute materials.

Finding methodological consensus for statutory interpretation cases is all the rage these days. Some in the academy sing the praises of a singular judicial approach to questions of statutory interpretation and bemoan the frustrations associated with judges implementing a mélange of interpretive techniques. And now, thanks to Abbe Gluck’s authoritative article, Laboratories of Statutory Interpretation, proponents of interpretive uniformity have evidence that some state courts seem to be applying methodological stare decisis to decide questions of statutory interpretation. After exhaustive reading and analysis of state statutory interpretation cases—cases that have received far less attention than their federal counterparts—Gluck describes several important developments in state legisprudence that she thinks may have significant implications for the federal system.

But the normative thrust of her work gives us pause. Although Gluck offers several caveats that qualify her normative conclusions, she is essentially committed to two views: that interpretive consensus in statutory interpretation is an important value and that the version of interpretive consensus employed by the state courts in her case studies, a method she calls “modified textualism,” is a normatively attractive compromise between the main claims of textualists and purposivists. Neither of these contentions, however, is particularly convincing.

David Souter stepped down from the Supreme Court one year ago, making way for the carefully choreographed nomination and confirmation of his successor, Justice Sonia Sotomayor. This summer will feature a similar transition dance as Elena Kagan, the nominee for Justice Stevens’s now-vacant seat, appears before the Senate Judiciary Committee for her confirmation hearings. While the preponderance of commentary on Supreme Court confirmation hearings laments the tightly scripted, unenlightening exchanges with inscrutable nominees, Justice Souter’s appearance before the Committee is an underappreciated success of the confirmation process. This Essay reflects on the Souter hearings as a transparent account of a nominee’s philosophy of judging, an account that remained predictive of Souter’s views nearly two decades later, in his final days as a Justice.

Citizens United has wrought widespread changes in the election law landscape. Yet, a lesser-known consequence of this watershed case might have a significant impact in the workplace: it may permit employers to hold political captive audience workplace meetings with their employees. Under Citizens United’s robust conception of corporate political speech, employers may now be able to compel their employees to listen to their political views at such meetings on pain of termination.

To eliminate this danger while remaining consistent with the First Amendment framework for election law post-Citizens United, this Essay urges Congress to consider language similar to that enacted by the Oregon Worker Freedom Act (S.B. 519), which became effective January 1, 2010. S.B. 519 prohibits termination of employees for refusing to attend mandatory political, labor, or religious meetings held by their employers. Enacting a federal law like the Oregon bill, which would protect employees from being terminated, disciplined, or otherwise disadvantaged for choosing not to be subjected to indoctrination meetings, would effectively address this problem and would constitute permissible employment standards legislation.

Climate change has become the hottest environmental debate in decades. It could also go down as the dirtiest—and not just politically. As legislators, regulators, pundits, and stakeholders debate the question of whether or not to regulate greenhouse gas emissions, the regulatory uncertainty that they have created is leading to dirtier air quality in this country, which in turn is harming our health. According to calculations based on Bush-era EPA data, the climate debate is likely already responsible for hundreds (if not thousands) of premature deaths and billions of dollars in additional health care costs—all of which are unrelated to rising temperatures.

The regulatory uncertainty surrounding the climate debate, coupled with a recent downturn in emissions markets, is slowing the installation of pollution controls on coal-fired power plants, which are some of the largest emitters in this country. This is leading to dirtier air in our cities and towns and particularly in some of this nation’s most protected areas like the Great Smoky Mountains, Shenandoah, and Everglades National Parks—just to name a few. Ironically, the uncertainty has also led electric utilities and environmental groups to flip positions on pollution controls. Prominent environmental groups like the Sierra Club are now opposing efforts by utilities to install environmental controls on their power plants, the same controls that these groups have fought voraciously to attain for over thirty years and that many utilities have avoided. These environmentalists are choosing to sacrifice known short-term health and environmental benefits for their long-term climate policy goals. It is hard to believe, but it is true. Congress must quickly put a stop to this nonsense.

The Federal Circuit’s December 7, 2009 hearing of oral argument in Ariad v. Lilly has generated significant interest among those who follow patent policy. An en banc decision is expected within the next few months.

The dispute arises from the interpretation of 35 U.S.C. § 112, which states in relevant part:

All agree that this language includes an “enablement” rule, which requires that the specification enable a person having ordinary skill in the art (PHOSITA) to make and use the invention. More controversial is the phrase “written description of the invention” and whether that phrase entails a separate requirement apart from enabling the PHOSITA to make and use the invention. It appears that academics are split on the question, and most practitioners appear to disfavor a separate requirement.

This Essay briefly describes the dispute and then raises an important but previously undertheorized argument in favor of a separate written description requirement.

As the output of the Supreme Court shrinks, from about 150 cases per Term decided with full opinions in the mid-1980s to about seventy now, concern has grown over whether the Court is deciding too few cases and consequently leaving too many important cases and issues undecided. The extent to which the concern is justified, however, depends in part on what is meant by “important,” and in part on whether it is important that the Supreme Court decide important cases. If we distinguish publicly important from legally important cases, we see that the Court rarely takes on the former, nor has it done so to any appreciable extent since the 1930s. But as the Court’s docket shrinks, it is also deciding fewer legally important cases, a recent and unfortunate change from past practice.

Moreover, and again in a shift from past practice, the Court is even less willing than in the past to provide legal guidance in the legally important cases it does take. This regrettable consequence is caused largely by an information deficit, for little in the Court’s current procedures is directed to giving the Court the information it needs to decide which cases are legally important and to know what kind of guidance the lower courts are likely to require.

My participation in the excellent conference on case selection in the Supreme Court was surely based neither on my experience lawyering before the Court, nor on my systematic study of the case selection process as a methodologically sophisticated political scientist. That being said, I have studied and written about the Supreme Court, and I believe that I do have something to contribute to the discussion—I believe that the discussions tended to ignore a particular eight-hundred-pound elephant, which can basically be described as “politics.” There is, I believe, no “neutral” vantage point from which to assess the Court’s decisions as to how many cases it takes and, of course, which particular cases it chooses to hear. Instead, perspectives will inevitably reflect a series of political viewpoints. I should note that “political” in this context is not necessarily synonymous with Democrat or Republican (though on occasion it might be); rather, it refers to the answers one gives to some rather basic questions about how our political institutions should be organized.

The declining number of cases on the Supreme Court’s plenary docket may or may not be a problem. After all, there are many good reasons that such a decline could be happening, including the obvious possibility that the Court was previously hearing too many cases that did not warrant plenary review and is now doing a better, not worse, job of picking cases. But while having fewer cases is not necessarily problematic, what is worrisome is the very real possibility that the Court’s plenary docket is increasingly captured by an elite group of expert Supreme Court advocates, dominated by those in the private bar. The same way that powerful economic interests can capture an agency or any other entity that purports to exercise authority over those interests, so too may the Supreme Court’s docket be “captured” by the more powerful economic interests that know best how to influence the decisionmaking of the Justices at the jurisdictional stage. It is, accordingly, not the number of cases on the plenary docket but rather their content that is the real problem.

“The most important thing we do,” Justice Brandeis once remarked, “is not doing.” Alexander Bickel showed long ago how the Supreme Court’s discretionary certiorari jurisdiction was the lynchpin of those “passive virtues” that are essential to principled government. Indeed, the cautious exercise of the certiorari jurisdiction may be as important to judicial self-restraint as the Court’s decisions on the merits. We should therefore view skeptically any attempt to alter the Supreme Court’s case selection process.Although critics in recent years have lodged various complaints about the Court’s docket, the solutions being urged upon us will neither cure the alleged ills nor avoid significant collateral damage. The reformers make two basic assertions: first, that the Supreme Court should decide more cases, and second, that the mechanism by which the Supreme Court selects cases for review should be changed. Both are wrong.

Congress is considering pension reform in the wake of the tremendous loss in market value of retirement plans during the current recession. This offers a historic moment to remedy an unintended but profound gender disparity embedded in the federal law governing retirement plans in this country.

The Yale Law Journal Online is reissuing Elizabeth Pollman's Citizens Not United: The Lack of Stockholder Voluntariness in Corporate Political Speech in light of recent developments at the Supreme Court.

With the Supreme Court hearing a new round of oral arguments in Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission, the Court appears poised to alter dramatically the landscape of corporate political speech law.The case concerns whether the government may limit a nonprofit political advocacy group from showing a film during election season when the film casts an electoral candidate in a negative light and is financed in part by corporate donations.

But for its contemporary particularities, Michael Stokes Paulsen’s essay The Constitutional Power To Interpret International Law would work comfortably as an excellent example of late-nineteenth-century legal scholarship, with all of its best and worst qualities. The piece makes for good reading; it is sweeping in scope, confident in tone, and certain of result. It is tightly argued in a self-contained order of doctrinal logics. Paulsen wears his ideology on his sleeve, not a bad thing. He is comfortable in the power of America’s constitutional faith, assuming that the United States can and should go it alone except to the extent that it serves the national interest. International law is never more than an option, he argues, and not a very appealing one at that. Paulsen believes that the Constitution should and will keep international law at bay.

There is much to admire in Michael Stokes Paulsen’s elegant and bold polemic on the Constitution and international law. Paulsen deserves substantial praise both for offering a clear and accessible theory of the Constitution and international law, and for then bravely taking that theory to its logical though controversial conclusions. He rightly emphasizes that the Constitution is supreme over international law and that the political branches, Congress, and the President, have an independent and dominant role in the interpretation of international law’s effect on the United States. He also properly criticizes those who have used their interpretations of international law to support highly politicized attacks on the Bush Administration’s war on terrorism policies.

A circuit split is in the making, and it could signal a shift with significant implications for federal arbitration law. Just eighteen months after the U.S. Supreme Court’s March 25, 2008 decision in the controversial case of Hall Street Associates v. Mattel, Inc., three circuits are already in ripe disagreement as to whether Hall Street abrogates the half-century old, judicially-created doctrine of “manifest disregard.”

Four authors respond to Michael Stokes Paulsen's The Constitutional Power To Interpret International Law, printed in Volume 118, Issue 8 of the Journal. Robert Ahdieh, Julian Ku, Margaret McGuinness, and Peter Spiro contributed their reactions to, and critiques of, this Essay for YLJ Online.

The Yale Law Journal is pleased to announce the launch of The Yale Law Journal Online in the Fall of 2009. YLJ Online will integrate the current features of The Pocket Part with additional fora for legal scholarship. The YLJ Online Committee will continue to consider submissions under The Pocket Part's guidelines and submissions system throughout the summer.

The Pocket Part is pleased to present an adapted version of Professor Fiss's lecture, The Example of America. For an audio version of this piece read by the author please access the podcast here. On May 12, 2009, Professor Fiss published an article based on this piece in The Huffington Post, which can be accessed here.

In mid-December, as one of the outgoing Bush Administration’s last minute regulations, the Department of Justice radically expanded the category of persons from whom federal officials are now required to collect DNA. The rule requires federal officials to collect and retain DNA not only from persons convicted of a federal offense, but also from those merely arrested on suspicion of being involved in a federal offense. Among its other flaws, this rule exacerbates the tension between the shared nature of genetic information and the standards justifying DNA collection and retention. By linking DNA collection to probable cause, the new regulation threatens to destabilize our understandings about what constitutes probable cause and to put millions of never-arrested individuals under perpetual genetic suspicion.

I seek to apply Stephenson’s theory to interpret the nature and scope of the Roberts Court’s jurisprudence—in particular, the likely impact of judicial minimalism—on statutory enactments and lower court decisions. Critics have charged that the Roberts Court’s emphasis on narrow holdings limited to specific factual circumstances undermines the Court’s guidance function for lower courts and legislators alike. Such objections are misplaced. Minimalism, or the preference for narrow decisionmaking in the exercise of judicial review, offers underappreciated benefits in deterring constitutional violations in legislative enactments. The indirect result of such jurisprudence is to raise the risk that subsequent, constitutionally problematic legislative enactments might be overturned. Legislators only can consider a finite number of bills during each session. They might be more wary to pass or even to consider constitutionally questionable legislation when factoring in the risk of judicial invalidation. Thus, the second-order benefit of judicial minimalism becomes apparent. Without making sweeping pronouncements of the constitutionality of various legislative acts, the Court can nevertheless reduce the frequency of constitutional violations while avoiding the countermajoritarian difficulty raised by judicial review.

Mirjan walked into my life in the Fall of 1972. I was 29, he was 41, but both of us were at the beginning of our academic careers in America. I was a lucky guy. My DNA was programmed for standardized tests. This curious aptitude propelled me out of the Bronx to Harvard College and Yale Law School. I served as a law clerk for Henry Friendly and John Harlan, followed up by writing a couple of long articles, and, voila, this proved to be a recipe for a full professorship at the University of Pennsylvania. I was, to put it mildly, confident in my bright, shiny intellectual tools and expansive about the rich possibilities of life in America—in short, I was naïve, breathtakingly naïve.

Mirjan had come to Penn via a different route. He was a leading participant in the liberalization of communist life during the “Croatian Spring” of the 1960s—and had been bitterly disappointed by the repression that followed. With reluctance, he and his wife Maria had decided to uproot themselves from their beloved Zagreb. They were rebuilding their lives from the ground up. Mirjan looked on in disbelief as I happily babbled about the mind-blowing implications of John Rawls and Guido Calabresi for the study of law. Mirjan did not come to America to herald a decisive advance in jurisprudence. He went into exile to gain the scholarly freedom to reflect upon the great crises of legality of the twentieth century. His brooding Slav soul was a standing rebuke to my heady American optimism about the future.

Many attorneys are unaware of or misunderstand an important tool they can use to protect their business organization clients: the ability to disclose the client’s confidences. In jurisdictions with “loyal disclosure” rules—rules adopted by the Securities and Exchange Commission and the American Bar Association in response to Enron and other corporate scandals—counsel may disclose confidential information to protect an entity client from the harmful, illegal conduct of company constituents. In this essay, I explain that an entity client has an interest in its attorneys understanding these complicated rules and, when appropriate, disclosing confidences to protect the organization from the financial consequences of constituent misconduct.

The Office of Professional Responsibility (OPR), housed within the U.S. Department of Justice (DOJ), investigates alleged misconduct by federal prosecutors and other DOJ personnel. Under the Bush administration, even when OPR found serious prosecutorial misconduct, DOJ kept the disciplinary investigation and outcome private to avoid embarrassing the prosecutor. This practice superseded a public disclosure policy adopted by the previous administration. This essay submits that DOJ’s recent practice is contrary to the public interest and that the new administration should regulate its prosecutors more transparently, consistent with President Obama’s call for open government.

Failure to meet discovery obligations is a serious impediment to the fair, prompt and cost effective resolution of disputes and, in extreme forms, can undermine public confidence in the integrity of the process. Harsh sanctions are appropriately imposed on parties and their counsel when egregious discovery misconduct affects the progress of a case. In cases involving allegations of improper monitoring by counsel of client conduct, however, courts properly exercise restraint in determining counsel culpability in light of the burdens it places on the attorney-client relationship, including threats to the confidentiality of client communications.

In a recent note in The Yale Law Journal, Jon Donenberg argued that (1) program changes in Medicaid ushered in by the Deficit Reduction Act of 2005 (DRA) sub silentio rendered Medicaid’s basic availability provision unenforceable under 42 U.S.C. § 1983, and (2) state fair hearing procedures constitute the best alternative for enforcement of beneficiary rights. Donenberg misreads both the DRA and § 1983 jurisprudence, overstates the usefulness of fair hearings, and overlooks the better alternative of preemption claims to enforce the Medicaid Act.

Virtual world transactions (VWT) involve the sale or exchange of goods and services that are used exclusively within a virtual world. As participation in virtual worlds increases, both in volume and in character, the boundary between VWT and real world transactions becomes unclear. Consequently, many wonder whether the Internal Revenue Service (IRS) will tax participants in virtual worlds, even before they have converted their virtual items into real goods or services. Although IRS agents are not counting virtual earnings quite yet, they may begin to take notice of VWT on a broader scale if and when one of three events occur: (1) courts grant property rights to virtual world participants in the virtual items they amass; (2) vendors begin accepting virtual items (such as virtual currency) on a regular basis in exchange for real goods and services; or (3) Congress adopts legislation requiring owners of virtual worlds to report certain transactions to the IRS.

Millions of people participate in virtual worlds—immersive online forums such as Second Life and World of Warcraft (WoW). While some online activities lack significant economic implications, one of the attractions of Second Life, which is designed to be a commercial platform, is the prospect of making “real money.” This essay argues that profits received in the form of Lindens (Second Life’s currency) should be taxed in much the same way profits received via PayPal, a widely used electronic-payment system, are. Although Second Life profits could instead be taxed once the taxpayer sells for real money (“cashes out”), that would create a special exception for Second Life that doesnot exist for platforms such as eBay. It would facilitate abuse and distort economic activity.

Two problems have preoccupied scholars of virtual world law: What is the political relationship between developers and users? And: Should we treat in-world objects as property? We can make progress on both questions by recognizing that virtual politics and property are inex-tricably linked, in the same way that feudal politics and property were. It is the tenant/user’s relationship with his lord/developer that both creates the property interest and enforces it. The similarity between ownership of land in feudal England and in Second Life suggests that offline courts should protect user interests in virtual items, gradually, without treating them as full-blown modern “property.”

Economists and legal theorists have long argued that real-world economies cannot function effectively without well-defined property rights. More recently, scholars have also begun to analyze at least three kinds of “virtual” economies: the online economies exemplified by eBay and other trade-facilitating mechanisms; the economies in virtual worlds such as Second Life and World of Warcraft; and the virtual reputational economies associated with MySpace and Facebook. The first two economies generally involve the exchange of familiar forms of property. But scholars have thus far failed to fully identify or analyze the propertyunderlying the reputational economy. What that economy demonstrates, especially in its virtual form, is that reputation itself—social status and the respect of others—can usefully be understood as a form of property. Strands of this theory appear in law and scholarship, but they have not been tied together in a way that shows that reputation can be property-like even without demonstrating economic value. Virtual reputational economies show that reputation can be gained, lost, traded, protected, and shared, all in property-like fashion, without regard to whether it has independent economic value. In other words, reputation is not merely valuable; it is the new New Property.

The Pocket Part is proud to present our second symposium issue of the academic year, which examines legal issues surrounding the growing presence and influence of virtual worlds. This week presents the second and final part of the two issue symposium.

Suppose that you move to a new town. To buy your home, you must allow the developer to install cameras in each room and record all interactions between you and your husband. To use the telephone, you must permit the telephone company to record and retain your conversations. To receive mail, you must allow the mail carrier to copy and index the contents. To access funds, you must permit the bank to record all purchases. Suppose, too, that much of this information can become available to government actors with a simple subpoena rather than the more stringent search warrant. It may sound incredible, but this is the reality for millions of people who live, work, and play in virtual worlds.

Several female law students were the subject of derogatory comments on AutoAdmit.com, a message board about law school admissions. When one of the women asked the website administrator to remove certain comments, the administrator discussed her request in an online post, prompting further attacks. An undergraduate student’s rape was revealed on a gossip site, JuicyCampus.com, where posters engaged in a cruel session of “blame the victim.” Another student on that site was falsely identified, by name, as being a stalker, bi-polar, and suicidal. When officials at her university asked JuicyCampus.com to remove the most egregious posts, the company refused.

Sovereign wealth funds (SWFs)—capital pools created by governments to invest surplus funds in private markets—are increasingly important global financial actors. Many fear that the economic power of SWFs, which is measured in trillions of dollars, will be used strategically and politically. Are fears that SWFs will be used as political tools justified? If political use of SWFs depends on their control of U.S. firms, the answer is almost certainly “no.” There is no significant evidence that SWFs have or will use control of U.S. firms to implement governmental policy. Indeed, American political and regulatory constraints will pressure SWFs not only to avoid control, but also to avoid exercising significant influence over U.S. companies in their portfolios. Instead, the present cycle of SWF investment is likely to be characterized by passivity.

The Pocket Part is pleased to announce the publication of a symposium on legal issues surrounding the growth and use of sovereign wealth funds as an international investment tool. This week presents the second of the two part symposium issue.

The rise of significant inbound capital flows originating from sovereign wealth funds (SWFs) has occasioned a debate over the appropriate regulatory and tax treatment of these funds. In particular, it has been argued that the tax exemption currently enjoyed by SWFs confers an advantage on these entities as providers of capital to U.S. firms relative to private foreign investors, and that a tax should be imposed on SWFs to restore fairness. This essay argues that the distinctive nature of the portfolio choices facing SWFs negates this fairness argument. Indeed, changing the tax treatment of SWFs as has been proposed would distort choices that are otherwise efficient and would handicap U.S. firms and workers.

Important characteristics distinguish sovereign wealth fund investment, which is often troubling, from private foreign investment, which is generally beneficial. Allowing sovereign wealth funds to own equity stakes in American companies encroaches on the autonomy of U.S. industrial and foreign policy in a way that private investment does not. Moreover, because some sovereign wealth fund investment is politically motivated, this new form of investment impairs the efficient allocation of economic resources. Given these effects, one might expect U.S. tax policy to discourage state-controlled investment and encourage private investment. Instead, tax policy does just the opposite, subsidizing sovereign wealth funds that invest in the equity of U.S. companies.

In this Essay, I sketch out a few tax reform alternatives that could complement other regulatory proposals regarding sovereign wealth. First, and most modestly, the U.S. could strive for sovereign tax neutrality, eliminating the unwarranted tax subsidy that sovereign wealth funds enjoy under current law. A second, more aggressive, alternative would impose an excise tax on sovereign wealth. Additional reform alternatives are more fine tuned, linking the tax rate to a fund’s compliance with best practices or other measures of transparency, accountability, and professionalization. I fully develop the case for taxing sovereign wealth elsewhere in a longer paper. For present purposes, I merely wish to convince the reader that regardless of how one feels about regulating sovereign wealth funds, the tax exemption under current law deserves reconsideration.

Sovereign Wealth Funds (SWFs) recently have captured America’s attention. Much of that attention has been critical, with a particular focus on whether the U.S. economy is becoming vulnerable to the policy whims of foreign states. Yet SWFs face significant domestic commercial and political pressures to emphasize financial performance over policy goals. These pressures from home can protect against politically motivated U.S. investments. To the extent these motivations are insufficient, additional protections—such as the Committee on Foreign Investment in the United States (CFIUS), as well as our antitrust, banking, securities and other regulations—help assure that SWFs are likely to act pursuant to commercial interests.

In a 2003 essay in The Yale Law Journal entitled Minorities, Shareholder and Otherwise, Anupam Chander compared corporate law’s special protections for minority shareholders with the increasingly colorblind position of constitutional law, arguing that the former has much to teach the latter.In this edition of The Yale Law Journal Pocket Part we revisit this controversial essay with reactions from three constitutional and corporate law scholars and, finally, a response from Anupam Chander addressing these perspectives on his work.

Minorities, Shareholder and Otherwisemakes two novel claims: that corporate law places protection of minority shareholders at the heart of its endeavor; and that this minority-mindfulness should have even greater purchase in constitutional contexts. My retelling of the corporate law narrative coupled with my extension of that story to the constitutional domain puts pressure on scholars either to dispute my characterization of corporate law (or for that matter, constitutional law) or to deny the relevance of that characterization to the constitutional sphere. Alternatively and, I think, more promisingly, it allows scholars to seek to understand or resolve law’s inconsistent attitudes towards minorities in different domains.

Anupam Chander’s article Minorities, Shareholder and Otherwise brilliantly offers a “conservative” justification for a U.S. constitutional law truly dedicated to fairness and justice for all. It does so by counterintuitively looking to the bottom-line-oriented world of corporate law. This commentary offers a most powerful example of the gulf between constitutional law and corporate law identified by Professor Chander. Modern constitutional law affords no meaningful substantive protection to immigrants to the United States. The Supreme Court has consistently held that the political branches of the U.S. government possess “plenary power” over immigration and the courts lack the power to review the substantive constitutionality of the immigration laws. The “plenary power” doctrine in operation serves as a bulwark of inequality for immigrants to the United States.

That is the question motivating my essay, Minorities, Shareholder and Otherwise, published five years ago in this journal. I am grateful to TheYale Law Journal for recalling the paper and inviting three of the nation’s leading legal scholars to comment on it. Because my essay was published at the dawn of the Web 2.0 era when, alas, ThePocket Part was not yet available, the Journal has asked me to pen an introduction to this symposium to review that paper.

In Minorities, Shareholder and Otherwise, I demonstrate that corporate law recognizes the relevance of minority status, even while constitutional law more and more insists on minority-blindness. I argue that this is precisely backwards — that the constitutional domain should require greater judicial vigilance with respect to minority status than the corporate domain. The difficulty of exit from a polity and the inability to negotiate (or at least select among) terms of entry into a polity, not to mention a history of grave injustice, call for special attention to minorities in the constitutional context.

Attorney Alan R. Levy recently published an article in The Yale Law Journal Pocket Part entitled “How ‘Swingers’ Might Save Hollywood from a Federal Pornography Statute.” So eager was Levy to “save Hollywood” from having to keep records to verify that performers engaging in actual sexually explicit conduct are legally adults, that he grossly distorted the meaning and effect of 18 U.S.C. § 2257. Ironically, while exaggerating the negative impact of § 2257, he simultaneously underestimated the problematic nature of a different statutory provision potentially requiring record keeping for performers who engage in simulated sexual conduct.

The behavior of the Justices during oral argument has always fascinated Supreme Court watchers. Recent studies have confirmed what experienced observers have long known: Justice Breyer talks the most,Justice Thomas says the least, and Justice Scalia gets the most laughs. What has remained somewhat of a mystery, however, is how much the Justices continue to think about oral argument after they leave the courtroom and return to their chambers. Which Justices give oral argument the most consideration? Which statements by advocates make the most lasting impressions?

It is a distinct pleasure to have the chance to respond to the insightful commentaries of Peter Drahos, Ruth Okediji, and Tomiko Brown-Nagin. I find much to agree with in each, but I will focus on a few areas of divergence in the hope of clarifying our differences.

The recent decision of the California Court of Appeal in the Rachel L. case set off a storm of protest from the California “home school” community and drew nationwide media attention. It was understood by many as holding that it is illegal for parents without teaching credentials to teach their own children at home, thus exposing the children and parents to truancy and child dependency proceedings. In the wake of the public response, the Court of Appeal granted rehearing and solicited an amicus brief from the California Department of Education (CDE) and State Superintendent of Public Instruction Jack O’Connell, which we recently filed with the court. In the brief, we argued that home-schooled children should not be declared truant if, in the opinion of local public school officials, the parents are providing an adequate education in compliance with the laws governing private schools.

Federal administrative agencies have always had the authority to issue substantive regulations that conflict with, and therefore ultimately preempt, state law. In recent years, agencies have begun to assert a new and questionable kind of interpretative authority: taking a specific position on whether or not state law is preempted by an agency action. Later this year the Supreme Court will hear Wyeth v. Levine, a Food and Drug Administration (FDA) case that is widely expected to tackle head-on the question of agency authority to determine when its regulations preempt state law. However, little-noticed language appearing in the Court’s February 2008 decision in Riegel v. Medronic may have significant implications for the upcoming Wyeth decision.

The United States is suffering from what Judge Morris Hoffman has called our “national schizophrenia about drugs.” We simultaneously want drug abuse to be “a crime and . . . a disease.” Our answer to these dueling notions seems to be to chip around the margins of drug policy and to avoid reassessing the larger basis of the War on Drugs. This tendency has played out most clearly in the development and expansion of drug treatment courts, which are courts designed to urge drug offenders into drug rehabilitation programs and re-integrate them into their communities. Drug treatment courts have quietly grown and spread all across the country. And yet, it is the judiciary and not the legislature that has been the driving force behind their remarkable expansion. Why? Drug treatment courts challenge the fundamental tenets upon which the War on Drugs rests. To take up drug treatment courts is to engage in a problem far larger than the courts themselves and to enter politically dangerous territory. It is to question the foundation of the War on Drugs itself.

Consider democracy in America through the lens of the presidential debates. It is not a pretty picture.

From a high point in the nineteenth century (for example, the lengthy Lincoln-Douglas Senate campaign debates of 1858) a declining trajectory can be traced to the present day, with a marked acceleration in the Age of Television. To our polity’s discredit, the presidential debate has long since ceased to be a dialogue that might shed light on the candidates’ true powers of deliberation. The key to reversing this long decline, I believe, lies in an unlikely place: in the structural features of the legal trial.

Once the domain of experts, intellectual property (IP) law today has become the object of popular mobilization. Activists across the globe are campaigning against strong IP laws and working together to develop new conceptual rubrics to counter the legitimacy of exclusive rights in information. This access to knowledge (A2K) mobilization is having some success, and should cause us to revisit our understanding of the tectonics of IP law. As my recent article explains, neither the recent expansion of IP law nor the new countermobilization can be adequately explained without an account of the role of interpretation in political action—and in particular, without an account of how acts of political framing both affect and are affected by law. Once we develop such accounts, we can see the special gravitational pull that law can exert on groups engaged in political contests. This pull has potentially important implications for how we understand the nature and effects of legality, especially internationally.

How much difference does the mechanism of framing make to global regulatory outcomes? Structural explanations of regulatory globalization that are rooted in state power and self-interest would dismiss the explanatory value of framing. Put simply, words are cheap and do not matter to the final outcomes of globalization. In her recent article, Amy Kapczynski challenges these structural explanations, asserting that the theory of framing offers a better account of the politics of intellectual property (IP) than public choice theory. I am in broad agreement with Kapczynski about the importance of incorporating framing into a theory of collective action. In this Response, however, I emphasize several limits to the power of framing in determining the outcomes of global politics.

The goal of translating the diffuse gains from domestic intellectual property (IP) protection in the global North into an international setting characterized by vast disparities in national income levels, diverse cultural and historical contexts, and distinct legal institutions has long caused pathological behavior in global IP politics. The A2K movement reflects this pathology in new ways. The paradox of the movement, well captured in Amy Kapczynski’s article, is that it depends so integrally on the core assumptions that sustain the legitimacy of the international IP system, the most essential of which is that technological innovation is a principal cause of national economic growth. Yet fostering endogenous economic growth has not occupied a central place in A2K strategies. If altering the terms and text of the debate over the global conditions of IP protection is the organizational hook to the A2K mobilization, it is striking that the fundamental theme of the debate—inducing economic growth—is not central to the movement’s internal self-legitimation. In this brief Response, I put forward a few insights highlighting the discursive nature of the movement, the entrenchment of Coase’s firm in rationalizations of the global necessity for IP protection, and the movement’s own reliance on IP and market rules to maintain its position of influence in multiple international fora.

It is a fine day when I am able to fondly recall a childhood game, reflect upon social movement theory, and ponder the connections between the public interest and private law, all at once. Amy Kapczynski’s article brought me to this delightful place. The childhood game, which featured four cards, each picturing four distinct items, tested analogical reasoning. The game’s objective: to figure out which of the things “did not belong.” I found this exercise endlessly fascinating, just as I did Kapczynski’s boundary-crossing rumination on the A2K mobilization. The author links disparate actors and subjects, domestic and international developments, politics and markets, law and politics, the Third and the First Worlds, public choice and social movement theory. In her account, everything belongs. The challenge for the reader is to discriminate: to consider the discrete pieces of this sprawling intellectual mosaic and assess how well each part fits together to form a coherent theory of how law and framing mediate collective action.

In this issue of The Pocket Part Sanford Levinson writes a response to Ernest Young's recent article in The Yale Law Journal, The Constitution Outside the Constitution, and discusses the needs and challenges inherent to teaching the Constitution. In the second piece of this issue Professor Young writes a rebuttal to Professor Levinson's response, continuing the dialogue about the breadth of constitutional law and what it should encompass in legal education.

Ernie Young has written a superb article on what he engagingly calls “the Constitution outside the Constitution.” Like analysts before him, most prominently Karl Llewellyn, he notes that our system, like all complex systems, can be understood only by considering all of the conventions that could never be found in the text of the document (and, on occasion, may even contradict the text). A subtext of his article, with which I entirely agree, is that contemporary students are disserved by what constitutes the present syllabus of the standard-model course on “constitutional law.” Yet Professor Young can’t quite liberate himself from the notion that our courses should focus on existing legal “controversies,” or on what is presented to courts in litigation, instead of on the almost literally thoughtless and optimistic assumptions we make about the benevolence of all aspects of our constitutional order as framed in 1787 and maintained, to an almost incredible degree, over two centuries later.

Back when my friend Sandy Levinson and I were both on the Texas law faculty, the assistant dean for communications proposed a promotional tour featuring Professor Levinson’s book Our Undemocratic Constitution and my recently published piece in this journal, The Constitution Outside the Constitution. The plan was that Levinson would say the Constitution is bad, and I would add that it isn’t really even the Constitution. In the event, we did not get to take our show on the road, so I’m grateful for the present opportunity to address the intersection of our respective projects. To the extent that criticism emerges from his many kind comments, Levinson’s main complaints have to do with “complacency” about both the law school curriculum and the merits of the canonical Constitution. The point is a fair one. As will become evident, I am even more “complacent” than Levinson gives me credit for. The question is whether such complacency can be defended.

The role of an election law scholar these days is much like that of an anthropologist specializing in the study of human sacrifice. At a certain point, some of us in the field suppress natural human impulses of disgust and revulsion and replace them with fascination and curiosity. How else does one stomach the pervasive partisan greed, the wild conspiracy theories, the actual conspiracies, the pretextual arguments, and the often vicious attempts to use the law for partisan and personal gain? My article The Promise and Pitfalls of the New Voting Rights Act may appear too descriptive and anodyne to some, because of itsattempt to treat this important legislation as a phenomenon that needs to be explained before it can be judged. This Reply gives me the opportunity to offer some of the judgment that might have been lacking in the principal article and to reply to critics who have responded in print and those who have responded as part of litigation surrounding the constitutionality of the new Voting Rights Act (VRA).

Paul M. Thompson’s reply to my Comment proposing the creation of Congressional Commissioners for Standards proceeds in two steps. First, he argues that our current system of ethics enforcement, dominated by the ethics committees and the Department of Justice, is working just fine. And second, he argues that the establishment of Congressional Commissioners would create, rather than solve, problems. Both of these claims suffer from the same basic defect: they assume that congressional ethics enforcement should be just like criminal law enforcement. I suggest, however, that this assumption is fundamentally misguided. Congressional ethics is not simply about punishing rulebreakers; rather, it aims to promote public trust in Congress and its members. With this very different goal in mind, it is clear not only that our current system is in shambles, but also that the creation of Congressional Commissioners would be a useful corrective.

It is perhaps counterintuitive to respond to a call for papers on new developments in state law by arguing that there should be no developments at all. With regard to one area of law, however, that is exactly what I am going to do. More precisely, I argue for one general development—the elimination of state authority to regulate the workplace.

This week, The Pocket Part presentes the second of two issues on recent developments in courts and legislatures. In this installment, we survey a variety of interesting trends among state legislatures.

California recently passed legislation that creates retroactive, descendible rights of publicity. The New York State Assembly is poised to enact similar legislation. Legal recognition of postmortem rights of publicity permits a decedent’s named beneficiaries or heirs to control (and financially benefit from) use of a deceased personality’s image and likeness. Legislators, proponents of these laws, and legal commentators have overlooked two significant federal estate tax consequences of these new state law property rights. First, a descendible right of publicity likely will be included in a decedent’s gross estate for federal estate tax purposes. Second, the estate tax value of rights of publicity easily could exceed the estate’s liquid assets available to pay taxes. These tax concerns could be eliminated, however, by rewriting the statutes to limit a decedent’s ability to control the disposition of any postmortem rights of publicity.

In the aftermath of September 11, 2001, the government has adopted a number of counterterrorism measures that burden Muslim-Americans’ religious practices. Murad Hussain’s Note attempts to overcome the doctrinal obstacles facing individuals’ pursuit of legal claims against these measures. Because of the deference granted the government when it alleges national security interests, the immediate effects of this approach may be limited. Over time, however, Hussain’s doctrinal strategy, by alerting courts to the kinds of group harms that government action can generate, may persuade them to place more value on Muslim individuals’ religious exercise. To the extent that courts are able to conceptualize the harms at issue differently, they may be less willing to simply accede to governmental claims of a compelling state interest and more willing to counterpoise them in the balance against the forms of religious expression at stake.

Just hours after the Georgia General Assembly convened in January 2005, the newly Republican-led House of Representatives elected the first Republican Speaker of the House in 135 years. The House then launched its first official day of business with a dramatic change in its internal rules by passing House Rule 11.8—a rule that gives the Speaker unprecedented legal power to control the function of legislative committees. This Commentary argues that Georgia’s House Rule 11.8 is an abuse of the committee system, and that it should push legal scholars to theorize about the normative value of allowing such laissez-faire organization of our legislatures.

Murad Hussain argues that the courts should adopt a theory of hybrid rights to protect religious minority groups engaged in civic-minded speech. Why extend this protection only to religious minority groups; aren’t secular minorities just as vulnerable? And why only to religious groups who engage in civic dialogue; isn’t private religious expression just as meaningful? And why, of all conceptual possibilities, would one choose hybrid rights to protect anything; do such rights even exist in constitutional law?

In this Pocket Part Podcast, Chief Justice Randall T. Shepard of the Indiana Supreme Court and Chief Justice Margaret H. Marshall of the

Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court discuss emerging issues in state courts, as well as the academy's influence on state court decision-making. Pocket Part editor, Embry Kidd moderates the discussion.

The American jury’s prominent place on any short list of our most sacred endowments from older Western societies has tended to obscure both its tragic fall from grace and its recent renewal at the hands of state courts.

This week, The Pocket Part presents the first of two issues on recent developments in state courts and legislatures. In this installment, we are honored to present Commentaries by two influential state jurists: Chief Justice Randall T. Shepard of the Indiana Supreme Court and Chief Justice Margaret H. Marshall of the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court.

Last week, the usually obscure Natural-Born Citizen Clause of Article II of the Constitution became the subject of newfound media attention. As the New York Times reported, the candidacy of Sen. John McCain, born in the Panama Canal Zone, has revived a "musty debate": Is a person born abroad of American parents a "natural born Citizen" eligible to be president? As noted in the article, Jill Pryor, writing in the Yale Law Journal twenty years ago, examined this very issue.

Many of the trials concerned the validity of the ships’ papers, and the courts’ records contain many bundles of original records found on the captured ships. For example, the papers certifying the ship’s nationality or ownership might have been found to be forged or otherwise irregular. During the time period when the slave trade was prohibited by some nations only north of the equator, the ship’s log was sometimes altered to suggest that the ship had been sailing in legal latitudes when it had, in fact, sailed in waters where the slave trade was prohibited. During this period of transition from legality to illegality, some ships carried passports defining where they could sail and how many slaves they could carry, like the one below, issued by the Portuguese government.

Like British admiralty courts and courts in many civil law countries, the international slave trade courts did not rely on live, in-court testimony, but instead on written depositions from witnesses taken in advance of the hearing. The registrar of the court would administer a detailed, fixed list of questions to the witnesses and record their answers. Ships documents, such as logs and registration papers, would fill out the dossier.

Like British admiralty courts and courts in many civil law countries, the international slave trade courts did not rely on live, in-court testimony, but instead on written depositions from witnesses taken in advance of the hearing. The registrar of the court would administer a detailed, fixed list of questions to the witnesses and record their answers. Ships documents, such as logs and registration papers, would fill out the dossier.

The British judges carried on an active correspondence with the Foreign Office in London, with British colonial officials, foreign governments, and ships captains. Topics ranged from the mundane—illnesses, budgetary and administrative matters—to the profound, including reflections on the inhumanity of the slave trade.

As the article explains, between 1817 and 1871, bilateral treaties between Britain and several other countries (eventually including the United States) led to the establishment of international courts for the suppression of the slave trade. Though all but forgotten today, these antislavery courts were the first international human rights courts. They were made up of judges from different countries. They sat on a permanent, continuing basis, and they applied international law. The courts explicitly aimed to promote humanitarian objectives. Though the courts were extremely active for only a few years, over the treaties’ lifespan, the courts heard more than 600 cases and freed almost 80,000 slaves found aboard illegal slave trading vessels. During their peak years of operation, the courts heard cases that may have involved as many as one out of every five or six ships involved in the transatlantic slave trade.

The history of the antislavery courts reveals a more complex interrelationship between state power, moral ideas, and domestic and international legal institutions than many contemporary theories of international law and relations acknowledge, and has important implications for modern attempts to enforce human rights standards on an international basis.

The Department of Health and Human Services (HHS) recently promulgated restrictions on the State Children’s Health Insurance Program (SCHIP), which insures nearly six million children by offering matching funds for states’ health care programs. Most significantly, the restrictions prohibit states from expanding SCHIP eligibility until they meet an inflexible benchmark: ninety-five percent coverage for children whose families’ income is below twice the federal poverty level (FPL). By stifling states’ efforts to expand SCHIP coverage, these new restrictions will have adverse consequences for access to health care for low-income children. And the promulgation of stricter federal requirements has implications not only for SCHIP, but for other federally-funded health programs administered by states, including Medicaid. In order to protect state health policy initiatives from these and other harmful federal restrictions, I propose a legal strategy for advocates to (1) force federal agencies to follow more democratic processes and (2) combat the traditional deference accorded to agency interpretations in the health care context.

This week, The Pocket Part is bringing back some of our most popular and influential issues of the year. We chose three different issues that represent the diverse array of scholarship that The Pocket Part has published. We hope that you have enjoyed reading The Pocket Part in the past year, and we look forward to publishing new and interesting pieces in 2008.

In a controversial essay, Ellen Podgor argues that the Federal Sentencing Guidelines for white collar crimes are too harsh. Fraud is not comparable to aiding terrorist organizations. Furthermore, white collar criminals are less likely to recidivate than other criminals. Finally, white collar criminals simply do not threaten our sense of security in the way that violent criminals do.

In response, Andrew Weissmann and Joshua A. Block attack Podgor's assertion that white collar criminals are severely punished. Although there are high profile outliers, the average white collar criminal does not serve jail sentences comparable to murders or terrorists. Furthermore, Podgor's suggestion that white collar criminals are more deserving of leniency is problematic and potentially discriminatory.

José R. Coleman Tió argues the current commonwealth relationship between the United States and Puerto Rico is insufficient to satisfy Puerto Rico's democratic aspirations. Coleman believes that Puerto Rico can and should be given congressional representation through federal legislation.

In response, Christina Duffy Burnett and John C. Fortier argue that Coleman cannot surmount the constitutional and normative challenges to his proposal. Taking a different perspective, Ezra Rosser argues that early treaties with Native American tribes provide historical examples of similar non-state congressional representation.

The story of the 2006 reauthorization of the Voting Rights Act (VRA) is one that should interest scholars of legislation and constitutional law, as well as the expected and ever-burgeoning audience of election law enthusiasts. The Promise and Pitfalls of the New Voting Rights Act attempts to tell this story by identifying the constitutional and political constraints on the legislative process that led the law to take the form that it did, and to provide an interpretation of the law’s central provision for which surprisingly little legislative history exists.

Is Texas really worse than Ohio? Comparing the two—and, more broadly, the regions subject to the renewed Voting Rights Act with those that are exempt—provides critical support for the statute’s validity.

Constitutional theory and design have been dominated by the specter of legislative and executive institutions voraciously seeking to expand their powers. But in modern political practice, the flight from political responsibility–the problem of political abdication–is at least as serious a threat. Constitutional theory has paid too little attention to this problem. And as a matter of institutional design, we are still struggling to find tools to force political actors to take responsibility they would rather avoid. Abdication, not aggrandizement, is the common thread that unites Congress’s virtual absence from any major policymaking role on terrorism-related issues in the first five years after September 11th and the Voting Rights Act (VRA) reauthorization process that Professor Persily chronicles.

The plaintiff in the case, a Texas utility district covered by section 5 of the VRA, argues that the requirement that it obtain federal preclearance for changes to its election practices is not a congruent and proportional response to current voting rights problems – and therefore that it exceeds Congress’s enforcement powers under the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Amendments.The Justice Department and defendant-intervenors argue that section 5 is a valid exercise of Congress’s enforcement powers, and that evidence of ongoing voting rights violations demonstrates the continued need for section 5.

In advance of the September 17 oral argument, the three-judge panel hearing the NAMUDNO case directed the parties to submit comments on Professor Persily’s forthcoming article.

Below you will find the parties’ briefs in the case, as well as the comments they filed regarding the Persily article in response to the court’s order.

A forthcoming issue will feature additional responses to Professor Persily’s article. In addition, Professor Persily will respond to the comments on his article and discuss issues raised in a pending constitutional challenge to section 5 of the VRA.

Prohibition’s repeal in 1933 ended an era of lawlessness, gang wars, and heavy-handed federal regulation. The state regulatory systems that arose from Prohibition’s ashes, however, brought problems of their own. Most states adopted distribution systems designed in part to shield in-state producers, wholesalers, and retailers from out-of-state competition. In this piece, I examine one such widely enacted protectionist state law: the personal import limit. I argue that these limits, which survive essentially unchanged to this day, are inconsistent with the premises of an integrated national market and frustrate the purposes of the Twenty-First Amendment.

Suppose you are a Connecticut resident living in Hartford, and you wish to throw a New Year’s Eve party. Imagine also that a liquor store in Springfield, right across the Massachusetts border, is hosting a sale of champagne. No store in the Hartford vicinity has cut prices. Though you would naturally take advantage of the lower prices in Massachusetts, section 12-436 of the General Statutes of Connecticut stands firmly in your way: unless you wish to risk a fine of “not more than one thousand dollars” or imprisonment of “not more than one year” (or both), you may not import more than five gallons of alcohol from out-of-state. However, you may purchase and transport within Connecticut unlimited quantities of champagne from a Connecticut retailer. This is so because Connecticut employs a “three-tier distribution system,” meaning that Connecticut alcohol producers may sell only to Connecticut wholesalers, who may sell only to Connecticut retailers, who may then sell only to consumers. The system allows the state to regulate every drop of alcohol that enters its borders. Because a Massachusettsretailer does not participate in Connecticut’s three-tier system, the state of Connecticut bars the Massachusetts retailer from full access to Connecticut’s liquor market.

Nearly two years have passed since the New York Times reported on Laugh Track, the first-ever scientific study of how funny the various Supreme Court Justices are during oral argument. For that study, published in The Green Bag, I calculated the number of times during the 2004-05 Term that each Justice said something that caused enough chuckling in the courtroom to inspire the Court Reporter to insert the notation “(Laughter)” into the transcript. Although the study was profoundly flawed in almost every respect, it clearly showed that Justice Scalia got the most laughs from the bench, followed not so closely by Justice Breyer. The least-funny Justices during the Term were Justices O’Connor, Ginsburg, and Thomas, who received seven, four, and zero laughs respectively.

A lot has happened at the Court since the study was published. Chief Justice Rehnquist passed away. Justice O’Connor retired. John Roberts became the new Chief, and Samuel Alito was confirmed as the newest Associate Justice. The Justices also accepted seven-percent fewer cases to review, presumably to spend more time working on their jokes. Has it worked? Well, the oral argument laughter data for the most recent Term are now in, and it appears that not so much has changed at the nation’s highest Court.

In a world filled with unjust inequalities, it is fitting that theorists should be turning their attention to the ethical ideal known as “cosmopolitanism,” a view that holds that our loyalties and our ethical duties ought to transcend the local and even the national, focusing on the needs of human beings everywhere. In a world in which reasonable people differ about religious and secular values, however, this new theoretical attention will prove productive for the practical political debate only if we insist on the distinction between cosmopolitanism, the comprehensive ethical doctrine, and a set of basic political principles for a minimally just and decent world.

The comment Article III En Banc is a welcome sign of increasing attention to the understudied topic of federal judicial administration. The comment alludes briefly to a project designed almost twenty years ago by the Governance Institute, a small Washington, D.C., think tank, “to increase communication between the courts and Congress and improve statutory drafting.” Courts of appeals transmit opinions that point out possible technical problems in statutes to Congress for its information and for whatever action it wishes to take. This mechanism of “statutory housekeeping,” in Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s felicitous phrase, is a way for circuit courts to inform Congress about possible grammatical and drafting errors and other litigation-prompting ambiguities in federal statutes. The project, implemented first on a pilot basis in the early 1990s, has had the full support and active encouragement of congressional leaders in both chambers. Indeed, when project activity waned somewhat in recent years, the legislative drafters and the bipartisan Judiciary Committee leadership in both houses called for its reinvigoration, a work now in progress, as we describe below. The comment, however, tells the reader nothing of this project's continuing vitality. Thus, this response highlights congressional support for the initiative and shows that this project is, in fact, an island of interbranch cooperation in a sea of sometimes choppy interbranch confrontation.

A virtual cottage industry of intellectual property (IP) models has sprung up in recent years. To the mix, Henry Smith adds modularity, in which there are intense interactions within, and few interactions between, components. But before displacing more traditional explanations, the theory must address six fundamental challenges: (1) explain why modularity should be IP’s defining feature; (2) account for the roles played by IP statutes and doctrine; (3) specify clear boundaries for innately imprecise patents and copyrights; (4) justify discerned differences between patent and copyright; (5) rationalize the enhanced injunctive relief suggested by the model; and (6) prove the game is worth a new empirical candle.

Henry Smith’s Intellectual Property as Property: Delineating Entitlements in Information contributes to the intellectual property literature by arguing that enforcing IP with rights to exclude can mitigate the high information costs associated with information-based assets. Smith is right, as far as he goes, but perhaps he should go further. Treating IP as property has at least three additional important benefits: First, it improves socially constructive coordination that facilitates the complex process of commercializing innovation. Second, the lack of property treatment facilitates the socially destructive coordination among large players employing a “keiretsu” strategy of collusion. Third, property treatment helps to mitigate those transaction and public choice costs that are associated with political, as compared to economic, markets. In addition to perhaps not going far enough in these three respects, Smith may also go too far by overestimating the so-called “anticommons” objection to treating IP as property.

Intellectual property is property. This may seem trivial to some and tendentious to others. Why? In my recent Article I argue that the conflict between two polar views arises in part from overlooking the nature of property rights. Commentary in intellectual property is overwhelmingly concerned with the nonrivalness of information on the one hand or the need for the creation of incentives on the other. The former makes intellectual property, and exclusion in particular, presumptively suspect: if additional consumers can use information at little or no additional cost, then the waste from exclusion rights in information could not be clearer. On the other hand, the need for incentives to create or develop information may at times require intellectual property rights to supplement or supplant other devices like lead times, fame, and academic tenure, but this tells us little about whether the incentives should take the form of regulating specific activities, as in unfair competition, or employing exclusion rights, as in patent law. What should be the contours of intellectual property rights?

The Yale Law Journal Pocket Part is soliciting commentaries for two end-of-year issues: one issue will focus on new developments in state courts, and the other will focus on new developments in state legislatures.

In his recent essay in this Journal, Professor Lichtman proposes adding two factors to Leubsdorf’s three-part test for preliminary injunctions. In this Response, I offer a refinement of Lichtman’s analysis of the relative weight that ought to be accorded to each of his five factors. I suggest that because the prospect of irreparable benefits is inherently less troubling than that of irreparable injuries, and because they pose a greater potential for miscalculation, irreparable benefits should weigh less than irreparable injuries in Lichtman’s formula.

Although eminent domain has dominated state political debates since the controversial Kelo decision in 2005, a more influential movement has quietly attached itself to property rights reform fueled by the Kelo fire. The partial regulatory takings movement—requiring governments to pay landowners for the impacts of regulations—is rapidly growing. The movement attempts to address unfairness created by regulatory burdens. Yet as U.S. communities, particularly low-income communities, face increasing challenges to land use planning in their neighborhoods, partial regulatory takings legislation decreases their opportunities to influence planning processes. This legislation therefore fails to proportionately redistribute the unfairness associated with land use decisions.

Hannah Jacobs’s note seeks to establish a basis for balance among the competing parties to the renewed social conflict over regulatory takings. I argue that she is misled in this search. Proponents of regulatory takings initiatives are not interested in balance. They are interested in winning. Proponents want to delegitimate and dismantle the current system of local and state regulation. Instead of seeking balance, which concedes the validity of regulation’s critics, I argue that the task is for regulatory taking opponents—planners, environmentalists, neighborhood activists—to find a language and a strategy that presents a persuasive case for the social utility and functionality of regulation and the social disruption of regulatory takings.

Last spring, controversy erupted over the harassment of students, including current law students, on the website AutoAdmit.com. This month, The Yale Law Journal Pocket Part features essays that discuss the role of law and policy in regulating instances of cyber bullying, including defamatory “Google bombing.” The authors included in this symposium bring a variety of perspectives on the legal and extra-legal regimes that best address this problem.

AutoAdmit has its problems—racism, sexism, and bigotry quickly come to mind—but we would not care nearly as much about its more vicious content were it not for Google. In this essay, I sketch a framework for a statutory solution to the Google bomb problem derived from the notice-and-takedown provisions of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA). The purpose of this framework is to eliminate defamatory anonymous speech from Google search results. It would require search engines to remove a Web page from their indexes when an individual notifies them that the page contains defamatory content, while allowing those who post the content to respond with counternotices or other legal action.

With the growth of the Internet’s uses and abuses, Internet harassment is making headlines. Given its immediacy, anonymity, and accessibility, the Internet offers an unprecedented forum for defamation and harassment. The salient problem with such “cyberbullying” is that victims are typically left without adequate recourse. The government should provide recourse by curtailing the near absolute immunity Internet Service Providers (ISPs) currently enjoy under the Communications Decency Act (CDA) and implementing a notice and take-down scheme—similar to that for copyright infringement under the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA)—for certain torts.

When search engines lead thousands of searchers to anonymous online harassment, it may seem only natural to look for legal ways to make the harassment disappear from search results. This initially attractive idea is in fact deeply dangerous. It pressures the wrong intermediary, invites abuse by spammers and censors, and misunderstands the relationship between search engines and search users. Search-engine amplification is part of the problem of online harassment, but laws targeting search engines are the wrong solution.

Our law students are more tech-savvy than ever. Unfortunately, they occasionally lack sense. Some of them simply fail to realize that we—professors, bar examiners, and law firms—see material they post online. Others make a game out of being intentionally, but anonymously, offensive. To avoid further injury to the reputation of our law schools and the legal profession, we must create incentives for the former students to consider consequences, and a reasonable chance that the latter students can be “caught”—i.e., tied to their online personas. To accomplish both ends, I propose that we request, in law school and bar applications, a three-year history of online aliases and related information.

You have probably seen the drawing that, depending on your perspective, appears to be either a beautiful young woman or an ugly old hag. At first blush such polar opposite impressions of the same image seem illogical, but upon closer examination you see how different observers can draw starkly different conclusions. A similar phenomenon applies to impressions of the detention facility and military commissions at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. As Senator Lindsey Graham has said, “[t]he image of Guantanamo Bay and the reality of Guantanamo Bay are completely different.” My vantage point as the chief prosecutor for the military commissions biases my perspective, so I make no claim that my views are completely objective. By the same token, the perspectives of those critical of Guantanamo Bay are probably just as biased. That said, what I offer is my perspective, which is likely to contrast sharply with the ugly picture of Guantanamo Bay that many attempt to sell to the public.

What I see is a clean, modern facility that employs humane detention practices to prevent enemy combatants from causing harm in the future and that utilizes fair trial procedures that exceed standards accepted in comparable international tribunals to adjudicate the guilt or innocence of enemy combatants alleged to have committed punishable offenses in the past. If truth be told, and often it is not, there is no compelling reason to cut and run from the detention facility or the military commissions.

The efficient breach hypothesis is often taken as formal support for the Holmesian optional contract approach, which gives promisors the right to perform or pay. However, the efficient breach hypothesis doesn’t speak directly of rights (and indeed a promisor’s power to perform or pay would work just as well as the right to do so), but it does implicitly constrain the rights of promisees. If promisees have the right to prevent breach, it is often argued, inefficiency will result. Moreover, the efficient breach hypothesis relies on the expectation damage remedy: “If [the promisor] is forced to pay more than that, an efficient breach may be deterred.” It is broadly believed that efficiency requires the expectation remedy. Because particular rights and remedies are often viewed as associated with the efficient breach hypothesis, one might be tempted to conclude that those particular rights and remedies are required for efficiency.

The purpose of my essay, The Efficient Performance Hypothesis, is to argue against this temptation. Efficiency embraces a broader scope of rights and remedies than that implied by the standard efficient breach hypothesis. To demonstrate this point the essay considers two distinct allocations of rights –the Holmesian option, which gives the promisor the right to perform or pay, and an alternative option, which gives the promisee the right to compel performance or receive payment for non-performance. These competing allocations are combined with a variety of damage remedies and shown to produce comparably efficient outcomes.

Though falling comfortably in the genre of economic analysis of contract, Professor Brooks’s essay nevertheless provides some relief from the excesses of economic theorizing about the law. I will confine my comments to the conceptual and normative features of the economic analysis of contract, leaving it to others more versed in economic analysis than I to assess the success of his objections to the conventional view.

The classic economic justification of contract law’s default remedy of expectation damages is grounded on the efficient breach hypothesis: that promisors should be permitted and encouraged to breach when the net gains from breach exceed the net gains from performance. Expectation damages ensure that all and only efficient breaches will occur because promisors will find breach profitable only if its benefits exceed the value of performance to the promisee. The efficient breach hypothesis, and the defense of expectation damages that rests on it, has long been criticized for being inconsistent with the moral intuition that promisors necessarily forfeit their right to choose not to perform their promise. In his essay, The Efficient Performance Hypothesis, Richard Brooks claims that the theory of financial options can be used to identify a new contract remedy that respects the promisee’s moral right to performance without sacrificing the efficiency goal served by expectation damages. In this Response, I argue that options theory is irrelevant to the debate Brooks engages, that the moral objection motivating Brooks’s new remedy is itself unmotivated, and that Brooks’s remedy is likely to be less efficient than expectation damages.

The standard contract remedy of expectation damages treats a promissory obligation as an option: the promisor has the option to breach or pay damages equal to the difference between the value of performance and the contract price. In his interesting essay recently published in this Journal, Richard Brooks asks, Why not give the option to the promisee rather than the promisor? If the promisee is given the option to force the promisor to perform or pay damages equal to the difference between the promisor’s gain from breach and the contract price (disgorgement damages), then the promisor has the same incentive to perform or breach as under expectation damages. So giving the promisee the option to compel performance or disgorgement is no less efficient than the expectation damages remedy. Meanwhile, the disgorgement-option remedy, as I will call it (to distinguish it from the normal remedy of disgorgement), is ethically superior if we believe that moral principles do not permit the promisor to choose to pay damages rather than to perform, and if we believe instead that the promise shouldhave the right to determine whether the promisor performs. If it is no worse on efficiency grounds, and better on non-welfarist ethical grounds, the disgorgement-option remedy may in the aggregate be superior to expectation damages.

I appreciate the comments and thoughtful engagement by Professors Coleman,Kraus, and Posner on my essay “The Efficient Performance Hypothesis.” A few words of clarification may be helpful with regard to these comments, as well as the original essay. Let me begin with Professor Kraus’s comment—the most critical of the three in both tone and substance. Regrettably, Professor Kraus’ comment misses the point of the essay and his tangents contain a number of mistakes. I will attempt to clarify.

Congress is currently considering the District of Columbia House Voting Rights Act of 2007 (H.R. 1433), which attempts to address the disenfranchisement of District residents by granting the District representation in the House of Representatives. In a Comment recently published in this Journal, I show that the constitutional arguments supporting H.R. 1433 would also apply to a similar (hypothetical) bill granting House representation to Puerto Rico. In fact, a bill enfranchising Puerto Ricans in the House might even stand on firmer constitutional ground than H.R. 1433. Here, in this Pocket Part Essay, I briefly sketch my Comment’s legal argument and then address the moral desirability and the political difficulty of a bill to grant Puerto Rico representation in the House.

José R. Coleman Tió argues that Congress, under its power to govern territories, may grant Puerto Rico congressional representation without making it a state. This argument and a parallel argument about representation for the District of Columbia are flawed because the Constitution, not Congress, determines which entities get congressional representation, and the Constitution is clear that only states are represented.

José R. Coleman Tió proposes that Congress grant Puerto Rico equal representation in the House of Representatives through simple legislation. Although Puerto Rico has been subject to U.S. sovereignty since 1898 and Puerto Ricans have been U.S. citizens since 1917, they cannot vote in federal elections—not for Congressmen, not for Senators, not for the President of the United States. This is because Puerto Rico is not a state: the Constitution provides that “[t]he House of Representatives shall be composed of Members chosen . . . by the People of the several States.” But Coleman does not see this constitutional provision as an obstacle: pointing to H.R. 5388, a bill that would provide equal representation in the House for the District of Columbia, Coleman contends that the arguments in favor of such treatment for the District would be even stronger for Puerto Rico.

I want to look at the universal jurisdiction principle of Noah Feldman’s proposed minimum legal cosmopolitanism from the following hypothetical perspective. Suppose I were a voting member of an international organization considering whether to recognize this principle as binding international law, which would authorize any judge anywhere to exercise jurisdiction over every heinous crime, regardless of the defendant’s nationality. Would I vote to recognize the principle?

When evaluating a request for preliminary relief, courts today consider the degree to which a mistake in denying or issuing the requested injunction might cause an unintentional, irreversible reduction in one litigant’s welfare—what the courts call an “irreparable harm.” Courts do not, however, consider the opposite implication of court error: the degree to which a mistake in denying or issuing the requested injunction might cause an unintentional, irreversible increase in one litigant’s welfare. In the most recent issue of this Journal, I question this asymmetry, arguing that “irreparable benefits” of this sort should indeed enter the injunction calculus. Irreparable benefits are different from irreparable harms, to be sure, but the differences do not justify a legal regime in which the latter are carefully considered whereas the former are entirely ignored.

In Irreparable Benefits, Douglas Lichtman argues that when courts consider granting preliminary relief, they should account not only for irreparable harms but also for irreparable benefits. He reasons that gains accrued during trial to a litigating party who wins at the preliminary stage but eventually loses on the merits (the “Temporary Winner”) have undesirable distributional and incentive effects. Despite theappeal of Lichtman’s claim, I want to suggest some qualifications to it. First, the soundness of this argument depends on whether the law requires in principle that the Temporary Winner disgorge the benefits to the other party (the “Final Winner”) and on the reasons behind the law’s stance on this matter. Second,these benefits do not necessarily have undesirable distributional or incentive effects.

In a recent essay in The Yale Law Journal, Douglas Lichtman argues that courts considering preliminary injunctions should account for irreparable benefits in addition to irreparable harms.This is a provocative idea. If a preliminary injunction harms one party but benefits the other, and if both effects are equally difficult to subsequently undo, why focus on one effect (harm) and ignore the other (benefit)? There is a compelling geometric validity to this symmetry observation. But is this a valuable “flipping” exercise? Does it shed a new light and provide useful insight into the law of injunctions?

In this Response I want to suggest that the case for irreparable benefits is valid, but perhaps overstated. I have no quibble with the claim that if there are irreparable benefits, and if they are indeed overlooked, the legal doctrine ought to be corrected. But I am less sure that the existence of irreparable benefits is prevalent, and I am even less sure that they are systematically overlooked. Let me explain.

Democracy, at the very least, requires that the dangerous branches of government—like the executive and law enforcement—be accountable to the people or their representatives. Ignoring claims of police pretext, as our Fourth Amendment jurisprudence currently does, creates a barrier to that accountability because it shields bad police purposes from inquiry. We cannot with confidence grant limited powers to the police, or trust that they will not use their powers for totalitarian ends, if a police officer’s purpose, by rule, forms no part of any Fourth Amendment inquiry into his actions. Without a purposive inquiry, his ends need not be ours, though democracy would dictate that they should be. This is what it means to say that police pretext poses a democracy problem.

Funny, isn’t it, that “pretext” is a dirty word, a liability-conferring word, in an employment discrimination case, or a fraud case, but that in Fourth Amendment jurisprudence the word has been given a free pass? That, to use Eric Citron’s phrase, the word even seems to open up a “liberated space for bad intentions”?

Especially in the context of traffic stops, the pretext problem is widespread and destructive of what used to be called “police-community relations.” In the District of Columbia, it is unlawful (who knew?) to hang so much as fuzzy dice or one of those little two-dimensional pine tree air fresheners from a rearview mirror, or to have tinted windshields or front side windows that allow less than seventy percent light transmittance. Regulations like that, read together with the law of pretext crystallized by Whren and its progeny, amount to the issuance of virtually unlimited hunting licenses to Citron’s “Bad Cops.” Trial judges, bound by controlling precedent, may deplore pretextual stops, but their distaste will not be grounds for suppression.

Lawyers and legal scholars understandably tend to focus on domains of life where law is central. There is much to be learned, however, from domains where people deliberately structure their affairs to minimize formalities such as written contracts and legal entanglements. Just as studying conditions of anarchy helps illuminate the effects of government, so studying domains that people intentionally keep casual can shed light on the merits of more legalized arrangements. In an article recently published in this Journal, I analyze one of the most important human institutions in which informality traditionally has prevailed: the household.

In Unpacking the Household: Informal Property Rights Around the Hearth, Robert Ellickson argues that as long as members of a household expect their relationship to continue, norms, rather than law, will determine allocations among them. More specifically, Ellickson argues that in “midgame” household members either ignore the “endgame” completely or, if they do take endgame considerations into account, the relevant endgame considerations are determined by norms rather than by law. In this Response to Ellickson, I examine the fit between Ellickson’s claims and four bargaining models that economists have used to understand interactions within households and families.

In the United States and many other industrialized countries, there is much concern that younger generations fail to invest the amount of household production time that is needed for society to reproduce itself and for children to receive the education that will make them into productive citizens. In either instance, levels of household production of socially desirable goods and services may be suboptimal. Robert Ellickson’s emphasis on conditions optimal for capital supply, but not for the supply of household labor, could reinforce these trends and further discourage some socially desirable household production.

In a brief but pointed critique recently published in this Journal, Joseph Blocher claims that the Combatant Status Review Tribunals (CSRTs), established to determine whether Guantánamo detainees were “enemy combatants,” were inadequatebecause they were not authorized to determine whether detainees qualified as prisoners of war (POWs). Blocher asserts that the Third Geneva Convention obligated the United States to vest the CSRTs with such authority. While we concur that the CSRTs did not have authority to make POW classifications, we maintain that under the circumstances, the United States’ decision to deny individual consideration of POW status is appropriate and consistent with the Geneva Convention Relative to the Treatment of Prisoners of War. In our view, because predicate analysis identified no qualifying POW groups to which detainees could claim membership, the CSRTs were appropriately precluded from determining POW status. Accordingly, the CSRTs served the distinct function of determining whether continued detention was justified.

In a recent essay in this Journal, Noah Feldman describes his conception of a “cosmopolitan law” and offers several theories of how such law could be applied. These theories explain when a liberal state may—and should—apply its law to the acts of foreigners in foreign lands. In this Response, I draw on my own experience conducting ethnographic interviews in the Netherlands to address what I see as the greatest obstacle to Feldman’s theories in practice: to succeed, cosmopolitan law would require wise leaders to interpret it and skillful diplomats to apply it. Without extraordinary wisdom and tact in its execution, I fear Feldman’s conception of cosmopolitan law may do the world more harm than good.

Noah Feldman’s “cosmopolitan law” is, I think, a revised version of what has been sometimes called the law of nations, international law, and transnational law. Each, as originated, was a quest for a higher law that would interpret, supplement, and sometimes limit the law and power of states. This quest goes back further: Aristotle’s equity was the “corrective of what is legally just.” The quest has a literary, as well as a legal and philosophical, face; for example, when T.S. Eliot’s Becket faced the four knights who would murder him for the law of England:

It is not I who insult the King,

And there is higher than I or the King.

It is not I, Becket from Cheapside,

It is not against me, Becket, that you strive.

It is not Becket who pronounces doom,

But the Law of Christ’s Church, the judgement of Rome.

Compare Feldman’s suggestion that in Rasul v. Bush the Supreme Court “did not want to accept the government’s argument that Guantanamo is a place where no law applies,” with the argument that Robert Bolt gives Thomas Cromwell in A Man for All Seasons:

Much has been written on how the Supreme Court’s decision in United States v. Booker affects individual sentencing. Little attention, however, has been paid to Booker’s impact on organizational sentencing. Booker holds that courts violate individuals’ right to a jury trial when they sentence individuals using judge-found facts in combination with mandatory sentencing guidelines. Though Booker’s implications for organizations are not immediately clear from the Supreme Court’s opinion itself, I argue in a recent issue of this Journalthat Booker’s logic should apply to the Organizational Sentencing Guidelines just as it does to the rest of the Sentencing Guidelines.

In a recent issue of this Journal, Timothy A. Johnson argues that Congress may not make the Federal Sentencing Guidelines provisions on the sentencing of organizations (the “Organizational Guidelines”) mandatory because United States v. Booker guarantees the constitutional right of corporations to a jury trial. Johnson’s argument, while convincing, may be somewhat beside the point. The time has come to bury the Organizational Guidelines now that prosecutors can achieve the goal of reforming corporate cultures through deferred and non-prosecution agreements.

Timothy Johnson argues that the organizational sentencing guidelines should remain advisory because these guidelines, when mandatory, were no better at shaping companies’ behavior than they are now. Long before a company faces sentencing at the hands of a judge, though, it has already confronted another government decision that influences corporate conduct even more fundamentally: the federal prosecutor’s initial decision to bring criminal charges against the company. In this Essay, we describe the Justice Department’s efforts to make prosecutors’ charging decisions more consistent, transparent, and predictable, and we suggest that the initial threat of corporate criminal charges has far broader and deeper effects on American businesses’ behavior than does the prospect of sentencing itself.

Next week, the U.S. Supreme Court will hear argument in Morse v. Frederick. At issue is whether a public high school principal violated a student’s First Amendment rights by suspending him for displaying a banner reading “BONG HiTS 4 JESUS” at an outdoor school rally for the 2002 Winter Olympics torch relay. The school petitioners, represented pro bono by Kenneth Starr, have urged the Court to give educators wide latitude to proscribe drug-themed speech so they can “foster and encourage a drug-free student lifestyle.” Such broad authority would likely chill vital discourse within the school community. This Commentary suggests that the Court could endorse the power to punish students who turn school events into their personal public soapboxes without also letting schools suppress certain messages regardless of context. The Court could decide Frederick on narrower grounds, less threatening to expressive freedoms, by applying Hazelwood School District v. Kuhlmeier—the Court’s only decision on censorship of student speech in school-sponsored activities that might reach audiences outside the school.

The problem today is not only the draconian sentences that white-collar offenders are receiving, but the fact that because of the elimination of parole they will actually have to serve them. For example, if Michael Milken had been sentenced under today's sentencing regime, and if he had been made to serve his entire sentence, he might not have been able to found the Prostate Cancer Foundation or FasterCures, two organizations that have made serious inroads in the treatment of diseases. Without the freedom to undertake this extraordinary work in the fight against cancer, he might never have earned Fortune Magazine’s title of “The Man Who Changed Medicine.”

At the margins, the current Federal Sentencing Guidelines for fraud and other white-collar offenses are too severe. Even when a corporate leader has engaged in massive fraud affecting thousands of people, such as what occurred at Enron, sentences of twenty or more years hardly seem necessary to satisfy the traditional sentencing goals of specific and general deterrence—or even retribution. But we disagree with Professor Podgor’s essay Throwing Away the Key to the extent it contends that white-collar defendants are subjected to uniquely harsh penalties under the current Guidelines and that incarceration is inappropriate for such defendants because it does not make us feel “safer” when we walk down the street.

In this Essay, I argue that graduates of law schools should aspire not just to be wise counselors but wise leaders; not just to dispense “practical wisdom” but to be “practical visionaries”; not just to have positions where they advise, but where they decide. Put another way, I wish to re-define (or at least to re-emphasize) the concept of “lawyer” to include “lawyer as leader.” The profession and the law schools should more candidly recognize the importance of leadership and should more directly prepare and inspire young lawyers to seek roles of ultimate responsibility and accountability than they do today.Why do I advance this thesis? First, our society is suffering from a leadership deficit in public, private, and non-profit spheres. The core competencies of law are as good a foundation for broad leadership as other training. Second, the legal profession, by many accounts, is suffering from a crisis of morale, from a disconnect between personal values and professional life. Providing leadership can affirm—and test—our vision and core values. Third, other professional schools—business and public policy—have as their explicit mission the training of leaders for the public, private, and non-profit sectors. The graduates of our law schools are at least as talented as those who enter other professional and graduate schools. And law schools should have a similar vision to enhance the careers of their outstanding students, thus serving society and addressing the values crisis that affects portions of the profession. But today’s law schools are muted or ambivalent about leadership (Yale Law School has no mission statement on its web-site).

Imagine that the Department of Justice suspects a hospital and its former CEO of Medicare fraud related to billing practices. Imagine further that the CEO protests that because the hospital’s lawyers assured her that the billing practices were legal, she never had the intent to defraud. If the hospital refuses to waive its attorney-client privilege, as it has the absolute right to do, then the government cannot know whether the CEO really sought the advice of the hospital’s counsel, and cannot know if the advice she received was reasonable. The CEO faces a problem of her own: if the government does indict her, and if the hospital never waives its privilege, how will she defend herself? In a Note recently published in this Journal, I suggest that to avoid this problem corporate directors should insist, as part of their employment contracts, that their employers agree to waive the privilege if necessary to the directors’ defense.

Although Mark Kressel’s proposal is novel, provocative, and even enticing, it is ultimately unnecessary and unworkable to suggest that a corporation and its high-level executives should agree, at the very commencement of their relationship, to waive the corporation’s attorney-client privilege when reliance on corporate counsel’s work is necessary to defend the executive against allegations of wrongdoing. Mr. Kressel’s proposal is unnecessary because corporate directors and officers rarely, if ever, need to rely on a defense of advice of counsel when the company does not. The proposal is unworkable because it borders on reckless to agree to delegate to a third party the right to effect even limited waivers of the privilege if the impact of those waivers on the fortunes of the company, its shareholders, and other employees cannot be evaluated properly.

Of central importance to administrative law and theory is the question whether, and when, courts will defer to agency interpretations of law. In Chevron v. Natural Resources Defense Council, the Supreme Court replaced earlier answers to that question with a new framework: courts should defer to an agency interpretation unless the relevant statute is clear or the agency interpretation is unreasonable. In the past two decades, however, the Chevron framework has come under increasing strain. Doctrinally, there are many ambiguities and uncertainties about the nature of the inquiry at the first and second steps of Chevron, including questions about the admissibility and weight of various legal sources. In practice, recent evidence suggests that Chevron’s effect varies markedly with the ideological and political preferences of the judges who apply it.

Professors Gersen and Vermeule argue that we should replace “doctrinal Chevron,” which instructs courts to defer to an agency’s reasonable interpretation of a statute the agency administers, with “voting rule Chevron.” Under voting rule Chevron, judges would not defer to agency views. Instead, voting rule Chevron would induce deference at the aggregate level by requiring a supermajority vote to reverse an agency. Gersen and Vermuele’s argument is novel, provocative, and ingeniously developed. It also has a certain aesthetic appeal: the elusive, imprecise, “soft” Chevron standard is supplanted by a clear, rigorous, “hard” voting rule. Nonetheless, I am not (yet) persuaded of the practical wisdom of the proposal.

On October 11, 2006, the Department of Justice indicted Adam Gadahn on charges of treason and giving material support to a designated foreign terrorist organization. The indictment alleged that Gadahn, an American citizen, “knowingly adhered to an enemy of the United States, namely, al-Qaeda, and gave al-Qaeda aid and comfort . . . with intent to betray the United States.” Gadahn allegedly betrayed the United States by appearing in five al Qaeda videos in which he ranted in English against the United States, praised the September 11 attacks, and touted al Qaeda’s ability to attack again. Because Gadahn’s alleged crimes consist solely of participating in propaganda videos, his case strongly resembles the last wave of treason prosecutions of American civilians, many of which targeted citizens who served as propagandists for Germany and Japan during World War II. In those prosecutions, the government employed an “aid and comfort” theory of treason; today, that theory raises First Amendment problems. Instead, the government should prosecute Gadahn under the “levying war” prong of the Treason Clause on the basis of his participation in a campaign of psychological warfare against the United States.

Judicial review in the United States is controversial largely because, as Daniel Farber and Suzanna Sherry explain, there exists among the public “a sense of innate conflict between democracy and judicial review.” The standard account of judicial review, which describes the practice as invented by Chief Justice John Marshall in Marbury v. Madison, only contributes to that sense of concern. The origins of judicial review, however, do not lie in judicial creativity or even in the history of judicial power, but, as my Yale Law Journal article demonstrates, in the commitment to limited legislative authority. Not until 1910 did “judicial review” become the popular label for the judiciary’s practice of invalidating legislation contrary to the Constitution. For decades after the Founding, what we think of as “judicial review” was described not as judicial lawmaking, but rather as the practice of voiding legislation repugnant to the Constitution.

For more than one hundred years, legal scholars have endlessly and heatedly debated whether judicial review of federal legislation was part of the original understanding of the Constitution. The stakes of the debate are high. If judicial review was part of the original understanding, then there is a strong argument that the practice is grounded in the majority’s will, just as the Founders’ Constitution is. But if it is not—if, as Alexander Bickel and others have claimed, judicial review was a sleight-of-hand creation of Chief Justice Marshall in Marbury v. Madison—then judicial review is either counter-majoritarian or else must find its popular grounding somewhere other than in the ratification of the Constitution by “We the People.”

Many of the nation’s most influential constitutional law scholars have argued recently that judicial review should be sharply limited or eliminated altogether. The list includes such notable thinkers as Larry D. Kramer, Cass R. Sunstein, William M. Treanor, and Mark V. Tushnet.

Mary Sarah Bilder’s article is a powerful corrective to this mounting opposition to the doctrine made famous by Chief Justice John Marshall in Marbury v. Madison. Professor Bilder concludes that judicial review is an integral part of the American constitutional order with deep historical roots. I agree. However, Professor Bilder and I disagree on the nature of those roots. She traces the origins of judicial review to corporate law, whereas I locate them in political theory.

The fact that the word “sprawl” is uttered by curling the upper lip into a snarl captures some of the emotion generated by the current debate over American land use policy. Two recent books—Robert Bruegmann’s defense of sprawl and Joel Kotkin’s ambitious but short history of great cities provide an opportunity to consider sprawl’s costs and benefits, and also to examine the case for legal efforts to curtail it in order to save our cities. These are important questions because, as Bruegmann demonstrates, calls for “stopping” sprawl may proceed from serious misconceptions about its extent, causes, and consequences; they also may systematically underestimate the risks that attend growth management.

In Save the Cities, Stop the Suburbs, Nicole Stelle Garnett perceptively ruminates about the future of American metropolitan areas. She rightly praises Robert Bruegmann for putting forward a steadfastly contrarian set of views on issues of suburban sprawl. Even readers who ultimately reject Bruegmann’s implicit defense of the status quo will admire his impressive compilation and careful description of the fractious literature on metropolitan form.

“City” and “suburb” as they were known and debated in the twentieth century are no more. Increasingly, the key urban unit in metropolitan America is the region. Robert Bruegmann’s Sprawl: A Compact History, a chronicle of the melding of city and suburban land use patterns, illustrates this development. Joel Kotkin’s The City: A Global History, which expresses concern about the loss of traditional urban distinctiveness, also reflects this. In her review of both books, Nicole Stelle Garnett appropriately raises issues of interlocal competition and equity, and the quality of urban life in metropolitan America, but she errs in framing them in terms of the fading differences between city and suburb. With the ongoing regionalization of urban life, we need regional strategies to check the fierce interlocal struggles for tax base; to provide for more equitable financing of local services; and to promote the intraregional cooperation necessary for regional growth.

Editor's Note: This is the last of seven installments on the electronic discovery rules. To view an index of the installments, click here.

Much has been written on the expense, burden, and delay that responding to requests for electronic discovery entails. Some cost and complexity exists because many litigants, lawyers, and—some would say—especially judges are new to the problems created by the intersection of litigation and modern information technology. The result is the unusual circumstance of problems that are simultaneously ubiquitous and unfamiliar. Discovery problems are likely to remain unfamiliar because technology will change in ways we cannot predict with any confidence.

Editor's Note: This is the fifth of seven installments on the electronic discovery rules. To view an index of the installments, click here.

Among the choices to be made in deciding what form or forms to use in producing electronically stored information is whether to delete, or “scrub,” the metadata. This category of electronically stored information does not have a direct paper counterpart. Metadata is described as “data about data” or “information describing the history, tracking, or management of an electronic document,” although it is increasingly used to describe a variety of “hidden” information that accompanies electronic files, such as “track changes.” Courts have struggled with whether parties may produce electronically stored information without metadata included. The rules do not specifically address metadata but do provide a procedure and guidance that courts are already using.

Editor's Note: This is the fourth of seven installments on the electronic discovery rules. To view an index of the installments, click here.

One of the areas to be discussed in the Rule 26(f) meet-and-confer is whether the parties can agree on a procedure for asserting claims of attorney-client privilege or work-product protection after production. The amended Rule encourages parties to consider whether they can agree to nonwaiver agreements such as “quick peeks,” which would permit production before a full-blown, expensive, time-consuming privilege review. These and similar protocols are not new but are newly important, given the volume, nature, and variety of such information. These characteristics of electronically stored information both increase the costs and burdens of already expensive and slow preproduction privilege reviews and the likelihood of inadvertent disclosures even when the responding party conducts a full blown review.

Editor's Note: This is the third of seven installments on the electronic discovery rules. To view an index of the installments, click here.

A recurring problem in electronic discovery involves information stored on sources that are not reasonably accessible. Amended Rule 26(b)(2)(B) is designed to address this problem with a two-tiered solution. In the first tier, a party must provide discovery of relevant, nonprivileged, reasonably accessible, electronically stored information without a court order. In the second tier, however, a party need only identify sources of electronically stored information that are not reasonably accessible. Information stored on such sources may be discoverable, but only if the requesting party can show good cause for a court to order production.

Editor's Note: This is the second of seven installments on the electronic discovery rules. To view an index of the installments, click here.

The new amendments that provoked the least controversy, the expansion of the meet-and-confer under Rule 26(f) and the initial conference with the court under Rule 16, may turn out to be the most important. The amended meet and confer requirements serve crucial purposes: to identify potential problems early in litigation and to establish workable electronic discovery protocols. Courts are already expecting parties to come to the meet-and-confer prepared to discuss the details of electronic discovery and can be demanding in what they require counsel to know. One judge described the obligations under new Rule 26(f) as follows:

Editor's Note: This is the first of seven installments on the electronic discovery rules. To view an index of the installments, click here.

The electronic discovery amendments are an interrelated package. The amendments address five broad areas: (1) the parties’ obligations to meet and confer about electronic discovery early in litigation; (2) discovery of information that is not reasonably accessible and allocating costs of that discovery; (3) privilege review; (4) form of production; and (5) sanctions. An overarching change is the introduction of the term “electronically stored information” to the rules. This new term describes a distinct category of information subject to discovery rights and obligations, in addition to “documents” and “things.” The word “documents” no longer has to be distorted to accommodate the myriad ways in which computers create and store information, many bearing no resemblance to words fixed on pieces of paper. The amendments distinguish documents from electronically stored information because the categories are different in ways important to managing discovery. The distinction allowed the rules drafters to write provisions specifically addressing electronic discovery.

Editor's Note: On December 1, 2006, electronic discovery amendments to the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure go into effect. In this seven-part series, Judge Lee H. Rosenthal, chair of the Judicial Conference's Advisory Committee on Civil Rules, offers an introduction to the new amendments and describes challenges they present for lawyers, litigants, and judges.

The last time the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure were amended to acknowledge computers was 1970, when the words “data and data compilations” were added to Rule 34. Thirty-six years later, long after the computer has become both ubiquitous and essential, it is time to do much more. On December 1, amendments will go into effect to make the discovery rules better able to accommodate the vast changes in information technology that have already occurred and that will inevitably continue.

The need for the guidance the e-discovery rule amendments provide is reflected in the fact that courts have been applying the new rules since they were proposed, years before their effective date. Because the amendments have to be flexible enough to apply to all federal cases that could involve electronic discovery and general enough to accommodate the inevitable changes in information technology, there are a number of issues the new rules do not address. Instead, the rules present procedures and guidelines targeted at the distinctive features of electronically stored information, to help resolve those issues when they arise. In this seven-part series, I discuss a few issues likely to arise under the new rules and the challenges they may present, not only for lawyers and litigants, but for judges.

Fifty years after Brown v. Board of Education, school desegregation and school finance litigation have made modest strides toward remedying the separate and unequal opportunities too long afforded to our poor and minority schoolchildren. However, it is a striking yet often neglected fact that the most significant component of educational inequality across the nation is not disparities within states, the traditional concern of equal protection doctrine, but rather disparities between states. To address this latter problem, I propose a federal education policy rooted in legislative enforcement of the Fourteenth Amendment guarantee of national citizenship. Such enforcement animated sustained efforts by members of Congress, soon after the Fourteenth Amendment was adopted, to establish a strong federal role in narrowing interstate disparities in public education. Current federal policies, unlike that early ambition, are largely indifferent to or complicit in the perpetuation of interstate inequality. Recovering the historical vision of a genuinely national education policy and adapting it to contemporary norms of cooperative federalism are vital steps toward realizing the constitutional promise of equal citizenship.

Goodwin Liu’s inspiring article mines a rich vein of the history of American education. He revives and re-interprets congressional attempts to create a national system of public schools in the years following the Civil War. Professor Liu’s work is a signal contribution to the national movement for fiscal equity in education. I share with Liu—and with the senators and presidents whose efforts he describes—a strong belief that the federal government has a constitutional duty to ensure that each child gets the education needed to become a full citizen of this country.But in the spirit of “knowing thine enemy,” I will use this brief essay to emphasize the importance of the traditions and arguments that have stood in the way of similar proposals ever since the ink was wet on the Constitution.

Professor Liu’s article convincingly shows that the Fourteenth Amendment can be read, and has been read in the past, to confer a positive right on all citizens to a high-quality public education and to place a correlative duty on the legislative branches of both state and federal government to provide for that education. Specifically, the United States Congress has an obligation under the Fourteenth Amendment’s Citizenship Clause, Liu argues, to ensure that the public education provided by states meets minimal standards so that citizens possess the competencies requisite to meaningful participation in civic life. Liu’s argument is not simply that Congress may, within the grant of power of the Fourteenth Amendment, address educational inequality, if it sees fit to do so (thus withstanding federalism challenges). Rather, Liu’s claim is that the states, and Congress, jointly must do so. The Constitution imposes a duty on government to educate, and confers a positive right to an education upon the citizenry. A decent education, Liu argues, is part of what it means to be a citizen under the United States Constitution.

In two articles—one recently published in this Journaland another forthcoming in the NYU Law Review—Professor Goodwin Liu argues that the federal government should play a greater role in financing public education, should distribute more fairly among states its funds targeted to the neediest schools, and should establish national standards to measure student achievement. Would Liu’s specific policy proposals—the subject of the NYU piece—be enough to close the achievement gaps between underprivileged students and their more advantaged peers? As he acknowledges, probably not. But Liu’s emphasis on federal leadership is just what is needed if we are finally to reform our highly decentralized system of public education. In this brief response essay, I mean to suggest how Liu’s proposals might, with a few tweaks, motivate states and counties to make reforms of their own that would improve our nations’ schools.

In the next few months, the First Circuit will consider Cook v. Rumsfeld, the first post-Lawrence v. Texaslegal challenge to the constitutionality of the military’s “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy. Given the deference that federal courts afford to congressional judgments about military policy, “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” will be upheld unless the plaintiffs can convince the court to apply some form of heightened scrutiny to the government’s claim that excluding homosexuals from the military serves legitimate military purposes. Ironically, however, the very arguments used to defend the rationality of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” have a cost of their own: they impair the military’s ability to recruit young people, regardless of their sexuality.

As Americans turn out to vote today, the ghost of the 2000 Presidential elections will hover over the voting booths. According to TheNew York Times, this will be the first midterm election in which the “Democratic Party is mobilizing teams of lawyers and poll watchers” to check for voting irregularities. Where there are “teams of lawyers” mobilized, can lawsuits be far behind? According to election law expert Dan Tokaji, any number of things “can cause problems on election day,” from problems with voting machines to the use of so-called “provisional ballots,” which allow people to cast votes on election day despite questions about their eligibility.

The 2006 campaign season has witnessed an onslaught of challenges to one of our nation’s longest serving incumbents: federal judicial supremacy. On Tuesday, voters across the country will decide the future of this notion—that the decisions of the United States Supreme Court bind the decisions of state courts—in the form of ballot initiatives proposing term limits, recall measures, and citizen suits against judges who make unpopular decisions. The issue has garnered attention from commentators as diverse as retired Justice Sandra Day O’Connor and Phyllis Schlafly.

In Internal Separation of Powers, an essay recently published in this Journal, Neal Katyal adds his own distinctive twist to the debates about the growth of presidential power by suggesting reforms within the executive branch that would cabin executive discretion without violating the Constitution’s commitment to a unitary executive. I commend him for taking separation of powers principles seriously, rather than excoriating them as an obstruction or as a pretext for presidential aggrandizement. At the same time, one can view the same landscape and draw strikingly different conclusions about both the scope of the problem and the appropriate remedies.

We lawyers are committed to reason. A process founded on the exchange of reasoned argument, we want to believe, will produce the right decisions. Professor Katyal profoundly disagrees with the legal decisions reached by the Bush Administration in the aftermath of September 11. In response, he proposes to remake the executive branch into a debating society—or, one should say, even more of a debating society than it already is. Each segment of the bureaucracy would be given a right to speak, and matters in dispute would be adjudicated by a fair-minded judge. Professor Katyal believes that such a process would produce results more to his liking. His faith is appealing, but because he mistakes process for substance, it is also misplaced.

Earlier this year, the South Dakota legislature passed a stiff anti-abortion bill, H.B. 1215, designed to test the durability of Roe v. Wade. Soon thereafter, the bill’s opponents collected enough signatures to put the Act on the South Dakota ballot. South Dakota voters will reject or affirm the Act by a popular vote on November 7. The Act’s legislative history and effects on public discourse merit investigation and offer two valuable lessons for other states.

When journalists write their stories about state ballot propositions in the 2006 election, they likely will focus on South Dakota’s abortion rights referendum,Michigan’s affirmative action measure, or the variety of eminent domain measures reacting to the Supreme Court’s Kelo decision. But there’s also a story about measures that courts have kept off the ballot in a misguided effort to protect voters from making hard or bad choices. In this short essay, I argue that states should repeal their “single subject” rules because judicial enforcement leads to arbitrary, perhaps result-oriented decisions that don’t benefit voters.

The standard American conception of separation of powers presumes three branches of government, each replete with ambition to maximize its power. But due to a complicated interplay of party dynamics and executive branch assertiveness, Congress has often been content to stay at the sidelines of regulating the executive. Particularly when it comes to legal issues in the aftermath of the horrible attacks of September 11, 2001, Congress has passed open-ended legislation that fails to check the executive or has passed no legislation at all. The result is an executive that subsumes much of the tripartite structure of government.

Frustrated by Congress’s apparently feeble efforts to check presidential war powers and unconvinced that another round with the War Powers Resolution will do much good, Neal Katyal recommends, in an essay recently published in the Journal, the promotion of an “internal separation of powers.” Professor Katyal suggests that we look to divisions within one branch of government—rather than divisions across multiple branches of government—to restore some semblance of balance to our political system. Don’t count on Congress or the courts to reign in Bush’s war on terror, Katyal counsels. Administrative agencies constitute the nation’s best hope for limiting presidential power in a policy arena that other branches of government have done their best to avoid.

Behold Judge Jailbird. Duly convicted of receiving bribes or tax evasion, the not-so-honorable judge now makes his chambers in a cell. But until Congress manages to impeach and convict him, Judge Jailbird continues to draw his six-figure salary and remains a judge. A grotesque spectacle, you say, but one mandated, alas, by the constitutional guarantee that federal judges can be removed solely by impeachment? Well, . . . no. Contrary to the orthodoxy, nothing in the Constitution mandates that impeachment be the exclusive method for removing misbehaving judges.

[Editor's Note: Breaking Up Is Hard To Do is a Response to Jeannie Suk, Criminal Law Comes Home, 116 Yale L.J. 2 (2006).]

Just about everyone has been in a romantic relationship that, in hindsight, should have ended sooner than it did. Why do people stay? Hope, or commitment, or because they share a lease or she owns the car. Life and love are complicated, and, as Neil Sedaka sang, “Breaking up is hard to do.” That’s true even for those who are abused by their partners.

When President Bush asked Congress to enact a line item veto in his 2006 State of the Union Address, it sounded like a story we had heard before, one that didn’t have a happy ending. But it turns out that this proposed sequel differs from the 1996 Line Item Veto Act that the Supreme Court struck down in Clinton v. City of New York. This time the law is constitutional, if only because it isn’t really binding.

In Beyond Marbury: The Executive’s Power To Say What the Law Is, 115 Yale L.J. 2580 (2006), Professor Cass Sunstein argues that Chevron is the Marbury v. Madison of our age, and that it is now the province of the executive branch to "say what the law is." Professor Peter Strauss responds that Chevron deference must remain "within" Marbury, and that the duty of the courts to set limits on executive claims of authority is as vital now as it has ever been. Check back through the coming week for installments of this debate.

Within Marbury: The Importance of Judicial Limits on the Executive’s Power To Say What the Law Is

Anyone reading the newspapers today must be aware of our President’s repeated insistence that he is the constitutional “decider”—that in many contexts (such as national security) he needs to be the one in charge of determining what the law is. Even in the more mundane context of domestic legislation and regulation, distinguished scholars have argued that a dominant presidential role in determining legal outcomes is appropriate as a matter of policy if not commanded by the Constitution. That these claims remain controversial is suggested by this summer’s considerable flap over the President’s use of signing statements to limit the reach of legislation he was formally approving—a flap that was highlighted by the ABA’s condemnation of the practice and that extended as well to blogs like Balkinizationand The Georgetown Law Faculty Blog. Professor Cass Sunstein’s recent essay in The Yale Law Journal, discussing the Supreme Court’s sensible decision in Chevron, U.S.A., Inc. v. Natural Resources Defense Council, Inc., finds in that decision a basis for preferring executive over judicial interpretations, even when the former are made informally and without the benefit of public procedures. While he does not discuss the recent presidential claims of authority to determine legal issues, elements of his analysis appear to endorse them, in ways that in my judgment threaten the very foundations of our culture of legality.

The Virtues of Simplicity

I. Agreements and Concerns

Simplicity has vices as well as virtues. If the law consists of simple rules, it may badly misfire as compared with a more flexible, less rule-bound approach. But in many areas, simple rules are best. When courts are setting out doctrines to govern scope of review of executive action, they usually do well to favor simplicity. Complexity can have unfortunate systemic effects, and those effects cannot easily be justified by the effort to ensure greater accuracy. A clear formula, informing courts and litigants about the proper approach, reduces the risk of interminable debates over threshold issues. Sophisticated multifactor tests might well disserve the legal system, simply because they create undue complexity.

One disagrees with a scholar as respected as Cass Sunstein at risk; and he is right that there is much we agree on. In the brief format that remains (our readers will be glad to know that we now are to observe a word limit), I focus on checks-and-balances considerations that in my judgment he mistakenly puts aside.

Costing Mead

To know whether Professor Strauss’s arguments are right, we need to know exactly what is lost and what is gained by the lower level of judicial deference required by United States v. Mead Corp. Let me explain why more might be lost than gained, even or perhaps especially when the agency is responding to the will of the President.

The Virtue of Checks

In another of the provocative essays in the Symposium featured in this Journal’s current issue, Professor Neal Kumar Kaytal reminds us that, with Chevron in place, Congress is severely handicapped should it disagree with an executive judgment to which courts will defer—any rejoinder must survive not only the internal veto-gates of Congress, but also the veto itself. Thus, congressional checks on executive action are sharply limited. That leaves the courts and—his contribution to the dialogue—the professionalized civil service who within the executive branch can provide an expert counterweight to presidential politics. Eliminating the holding of United States v.Mead Corp. would prejudice both these remaining checks on presidential will.

The best legal scholarship is increasingly interdisciplinary in nature, and its successful production, evaluation, and distribution generally requires multi-disciplinary expertise at a reasonably high level. Unfortunately, the Internet in general, and blogs in particular, eviscerate and obscure expertise because the Internet’s most distinctive feature is the elimination of mediating boundaries: of distance, experience, education, and intelligence. While the elimination of the first is an advantage, the elimination of the others poses problems for serious scholarship.

As a female law professor, I can’t help asking: is the Internet-driven transformation of legal scholarship good for the girls, or bad for the girls?

Will it remove some of the handicaps that have dogged women’s efforts to join the ranks of scholarly “superstars”? Or will it only increase the professional obstacles still faced by women in legal academia? In this short Essay, I try to predict some of the promises and perils that the Internet holds for women in the legal academy.

I’m asked how the Internet will change what law journals do, but why are we assuming there should be any change at all? Law journals, distinguished by depth of scholarship and dedication to detailed and accurate support and citation, occupy a unique niche within the legal profession, and to preserve this important tradition may take all the energy you law students have.

The days of the case note—and of student scholarship focusing on current developments in the law more generally—may well be numbered. With the proliferation of “legal development” blogs (for example, SCOTUSblog for the Supreme Court, the venerable How Appealing for appellate litigation, Decision of the Day for the work of the thirteen U.S. Courts of Appeals, more localized efforts along the lines of the not-very-confusingly named Southern District of Florida Blog, and field-specific blogs such as Doug Berman’s Sentencing Law and Policy), rare indeed is the important legal development that goes unnoticed in its immediate aftermath. The debate over the viability and utility of such instant legal commentary notwithstanding, it is beyond question that law blogs have accelerated the pace at which we learn about new issues in the law. But at what cost?

Law reviews work hard to prevent and correct errors. They exert prodigious cite-checking, editing, and proofreading efforts to make sure their articles are as error-free as possible. They also try to prevent errors by readers: they publish articles aimed at correcting existing errors, and they edit articles with an eye toward eliminating misleading statements that might unintentionally lead readers into error. Yet new technologies can let law reviews do more to prevent and correct errors, without a vast amount of extra work.

Chris Anderson’s book, The Long Tail: Why the Future of Business Is Selling Less of More, has attracted enormous attention since its publication in July 2006. His insight is that technology and the Internet have transformed the focus of America’s culture and economy. Whereas pre-Internet firms turned out a small number of “hits” or blockbuster products (the “head” of the demand curve), today’s Internet-era firms offer a broader range of niche products (the “tail”). This Essay argues that the long tail theory can help both explain the current state of legal scholarship and chart its future.

African-Americans and women were once, at law, lesser beings. They were made that way, in part, by not having the right to go to court and get redress there, the right by which the powerless hold the powerful to account. Why is it even plausible that so fundamental a right is not protected by the Constitution?

Somewhere far away, in a land not studied by Professor John Goldberg, there may be a legal system that denies injured people redress for injuries. Flipping through the yellow pages here in America, however, there seems to be heavy traffic in the commerce of bringing lawsuits for almost any setback in life.

Impeachment is a nasty accusation these days. In the wake of Senator Feingold’s proposed resolution to censure President Bush, Republicans alleged that the resolution revealed Democrats’ hopes to impeach the President if they gain control of Congress in the November elections. The allegation was meant to arouse indignation and rally the Republican base. Senator Feingold, meanwhile, sought to mute the allegation by emphasizing censure as an alternative to the highly controversial impeachment process. But what if there was a stronger alternative, by which a legislature could effectively impeach a sitting executive without ever voting on articles of impeachment? That process now exists in Connecticut.

Discovery is the linchpin of our fact-based justice system. Because social policy in the United States is often enforced by civil suits, discovery is a cornerstone of civil rights, environmental, product liability, fraud, and antitrust law. Often the only way to meet the high standard of proof required in these areas of the law is to present evidence demonstrating clear patterns of behavior and showing who knew what and when. The recent revisions to the discovery rules missed the opportunity to create rules that would encourage the use of technology to make the justice system more transparent and more just.

We are fighting three wars, not two. Besides Iraq and Afghanistan, there is a full scale war in the press and in the academy about whether we have an imperial presidency. President Bush’s critics cry that he has violated or ignored numerous statutes; has adopted absurdly narrow understandings of our treaty obligations; and has violated the Constitution. His supporters respond that presidential powers have eroded over the years and that Bush is just restoring executive power.

The forthcoming Federal e-discovery Rules are a welcome advance, but they do not address all of e-discovery’s challenging issues. For example, how should the law treat instant messaging (IM) or other forms of real-time communications? When must organizations or individuals preserve dynamic data such as databases or work in progress? Practical realities and established legal principles from the age of typewriters and telephones teach us that businesses should need to preserve real-time communications and dynamic data only when they record them for business purposes.

Perhaps to no one’s surprise, a recent survey found that most Americans know far more about television hits than they know about the United States Constitution. For instance, 52% of Americans surveyed could name at least two characters from the Simpsons, and 41% could name at least two judges from American Idol. Meanwhile, a mere 28% could identify more than one of the rights protected by the First Amendment.

Surveys such as this help clear up one of the apparent mysteries of the last five years: how did we change so quickly from a nation in which the rule of law seemed deeply entrenched to a nation that has seen an astonishingly successful executive power grab?

Which President was advised by his lawyers that he had the constitutional authority to refuse to comply with federal statutes enacted by Congress? Which President also openly violated a federal statute in the exercise of his Commander-in-Chief power? The answer is not George W. Bush, but Bill Clinton. Like every modern President, Clinton defended his inherent and exclusive constitutional powers as Commander in Chief from congressional interference. Yet no legal argument has provoked more outrage today than the Bush Administration’s identical claims pursuant to the same power.

In an uncertain world, crisis demands executive action. And so 2005, a year of crisis, became a year of executive muscle-flexing, in response to crises ranging from Hurricane Katrina to avian flu to the Global War on Terror. In many ways, the legal debates generated were déjà vu all over again. Exorbitant claims of executive power in the War on Terror triggered the strongest clash since the Iran-Contra Affair between a constitutional vision of unchecked executive discretion bottomed on sweeping dicta in United States v. Curtiss-Wright Export Corp. and a counter-vision of shared institutional powers symbolized by Justice Jackson’s canonical concurrence in Youngstown Sheet & Tube Co. v. Sawyer: a clash of visions I discussed more than fifteen years ago.

Americans move a lot. According to the Census Bureau nearly one in six moves in a given year, roughly 20% of whom cross state lines. Americans on the move need not start completely anew. They can maintain old cellular numbers and sports team allegiances. Thanks to the Internet, they can also continue to read the same local newspapers and listen to the same local radio. But they can’t maintain all of their old property rights.

Should a landlord and tenant negotiating the lease of an apartment in Greenwich Village be entitled to spurn New York law and instead agree that their relationship is to be governed by the law of Idaho? Bell and Parchomovsky (B&P) apparently would answer yes. Their potentially revolutionary proposal would allow participants in a consensual property transaction to create, as this example suggests, an oasis of red-state law within an otherwise deeply blue legal environment.

First, the good news: Bell and Parchomovsky (B&P) see federalism’s potential to foster benign competition in the production of legal rules. This vision takes federalism beyond the traditional view of states as laboratories for experiment. It looks to federal structures that create a market for legal rules—a market with minimal distortions and thus with good prospects for races to the top, with optimal rules coming to prevail.

As chief prosecutor for Maricopa County, which includes the city of Phoenix, my office prosecutes about 40,000 felonies each year and includes a staff of 300 prosecutors. In June 2005, we surveyed 102 of those attorneys, all of whom had trial experience, and they reported that the CSI effect is no myth: Of the prosecutors we surveyed, 38% believed they had at least one trial that resulted in either an acquittal or hung jury because forensic evidence was not available, even though prosecutors believed the existing testimony was sufficient by itself to sustain a conviction. In about 40% of these prosecutors’ cases, jurors have asked questions about evidence like “mitochondrial DNA,” “latent prints,” “trace evidence,” or “ballistics”—even when these terms were not used at trial.

Federal immigration reform has seized public attention for the first time since Congress last made major changes in immigration policy in 1996. People are taking to the streets and engaging in heady debates about what being a nation of immigrants really means. Our answer will shape the workplaces of tomorrow.

Yet Congress has not tapped the unique opportunity to correct past legislative mistakes by aligning our workplace laws and immigration policy. The proposed immigration reforms—in particular the plans to expand an employment database system that has been error-filled in its pilot phase—will harm workers unless those reforms provide increased workplace protections for both legal and unauthorized immigrants.

The proper use of legislative history by judges interpreting statutes has long been debated among jurists and legal academics. But no one disputes the value of lawmakers themselves consulting legislative history, especially when they are wrestling with the very same issues addressed by a prior Congress.

The current debate over immigration reform presents an opportunity for Congress to learn from its past mistakes. Twenty years ago, President Reagan signed the Immigration Reform and Control Act of 1986, an ill-conceived amnesty program that promised--but never delivered--strict enforcement of our immigration laws. The immigration reform proposals that have thus far garnered the most support in the Senate have much in common with the 1986 amnesty. While I favor a second chance for hard-working illegal aliens currently within the United States, I cannot in good faith support any proposal that will repeat the failures of the 1986 amnesty.

The new procedures for electronic discovery might encourage companies to spy on their own workers. To prevent that from happening, I argue that courts should apply the new rules—which will likely take effect in December—in a way that discourages the abuse of surveillance technologies and protects workers’ privacy. When weighing the benefits of a particular discovery request against the costs, judges should consider an invasion of workers’ privacy as one of the costs.

The ways we fight - and the reasons why we fight - have changed. The Predator drone, last seen screaming across the screen in Syriana, has replaced the Winchester rifle in popular imagination; and Saddam Hussein is rightly considered a war criminal for violating the Chemical Weapons Convention, a treaty signed less than fifteen years ago. But the law of war the administration invokes to try Salim Hamdan is an outdated relic (although ironically, today’s military commissions do not even offer the protections afforded by their ancestors). It is lifted - not from today's battlefield - but from the pages of General Scott’s account of the 1847 Mexican-American War.

While considerable attention has been paid to the constitutional and treaty questions before the Court in Hamdan, the case begins with a seemingly straightforward question of customary international law: Does conspiracy, the sole charge against Hamdan, violate the law of war? The question is essential because military commissions may only be used to try such violations.

In Questioning Justice, Robert Post and Reva Siegel make three claims. First, that the Constitution authorizes the Senate to rest its judgement, in part, on the constitutional philosophy of nominees to the Supreme Court; second, that this practice is justified on grounds of democratic legitimacy; and third, that it is best implemented by asking nominees “to explain the grounds on which they would have voted in past decisions of the Supreme Court.” I agree entirely with the first and, to my mind, most important of these propositions. I disagree, however, that either the Constitution as a whole, or this particular practice is best justified on grounds of democratic legitimacy, or that their proposal is the best way to assess the philosophy of nominees.

Following Reva Siegel and Robert Post’s profound consideration of constitutional structure and democratic legitimacy, one hesitates to bring up something so pedestrian as the Code of Conduct for United States Judges. Still, legal ethics principles do have some bearing on the scope of Supreme Court confirmation testimony, and the Code is the most definitive statement we have about judicial ethics. As it turns out, the Code pretty much supports Siegel and Post’s position that judicial nominees may (and should) properly be asked to explain how they would have decided well-known Supreme Court cases.

Reva Siegel and Robert Post have argued convincingly that constitutional democracy could be advanced while preserving judicial independence by the practice of asking Supreme Court nominees how they would have ruled in already decided cases—and by treating a refusal to respond to such inquiry as reason to deny confirmation. Their essay elegantly dispatches the principal objections that have, seemingly more as a matter of habit than as a result of reflection, been advanced against this line of inquiry. Thus they quickly dispose of concerns that rest on an elementary confusion between saying what one would have done in the past and promising what one will do in the future. They argue that only a mock confusion could survive the now routine practice in which senators preface their questions with the assurance that they are not asking nominees to make any commitments about how they will vote on particular matters—other than, of course, the usual commitment to decide cases in accord with their best understanding of what the applicable law requires and to approach each case fairly and with an open mind.

Americans take seriously the difference between acts and ideas. We remain mystified, for example, by the to-do about the cartoons depicting the Prophet Muhammad. The act-idea distinction is alive and well in our culture, and it remains largely intact in American law. No store owner puts up a sign saying, “You covet it, you bought it!” If you want to show your commitment to “manliness” by refusing to hire women, you’re out of luck. Don’t want to pay your taxes because you don’t like the Administration’s views? Move to Canada. We let the government erect at least rudimentary boundaries between our impermissible acts and the permissible ideas those acts communicate. Otherwise, we would be forced to choose between the First Amendment and a society of laws. We couldn’t have both.

Jamal Greene’s interesting essay deals not with Justice Kennedy’s actual majority opinion in Lawrence v. Texas but with an opinion of Greene’s own imagining. This is not surprising, since Justice Kennedy’s actual opinion reads like a cruel parody of the modern make-it-up-as-you-go-along judicial decision-making that hides behind the euphemism of the “living Constitution.”

Nearly every state uses tax incentives to attract local investment. Do such incentives discriminate against interstate commerce in violation of the dormant Commerce Clause? The Supreme Court now confronts this question in DaimlerChrysler Corp. v. Cuno (oral arguments on March 1). If the Court takes an expansive view of what constitutes discrimination against interstate commerce, its decision could reshape the state tax policy landscape. Europe has already moved in this direction, and the problems with its doctrine should make the Court hesitant to travel the same path.

The Supreme Court in Lawrence v. Texas held that same-sex couples have a constitutional right to engage in sexual intimacy, free of regulation by the state. It seems to me that Mr. Greene ignores the actual rationale underlying the substantive due process ruling in Lawrence v. Texas—the rationale that was expressly set forth by Justice Kennedy and found strong support in prior case law—in order to posit a different rationale that he then finds problematic as applied to the death penalty. This makes for an interesting intellectual exercise, and I do not disagree with the background observation in Mr. Greene’s piece that the courts are moving toward giving special scrutiny to laws that discriminate against gay people. Laws drawing that line are beginning to take on the same kind of cultural resonance as discrimination based on race or sex, and Lawrence certainly fueled that phenomenon. But it is also important to be clear what the Court actually had in mind as a rationale, and see whether that rationale is legitimate and supportable.

The Latino community has mobilized as never before in response to H.R. 4437, the punitive immigration bill sponsored by Rep. James Sensebrenner (R-WI). Newspapers declared that the marches in Los Angeles, Dallas, Phoenix, and Chicago marked “a new day of Hispanic political involvement.” More than just getting Latinos in the streets, however, this mobilization will greatly increase Latino participation in American politics, and could even mean more Latinos elected to the 110th Congress this fall.

Since United States v. Booker, the main task of sentencing academics and appellate judges has been to solve the riddles of its mandated “reasonableness” review. This is a crucial task because the answers reached will largely determine whether Booker’s promise of fresh discretion in federal sentencing becomes a dead letter in the district courts, or whether the federal judiciary once again assumes its role at the head of our pursuit of justice in sentencing.